Not a Manic Pixie Dream Girl
by infantblue
Summary: The first time he meets her, she's stripping naked in his neighbor's backyard.
1. skinny dipping

**Summary:** He's a little socially inept and she's way too bright to look at, but he wouldn't have it any other way. SoMa. AU.

* * *

 **chapter one: skinny dipping**

 _Soul's first encounter with Maka Albarn is not something he plans on telling their future children about._

* * *

The first time he meets her, she's stripping naked in his neighbor's backyard.

Soul doesn't want to be at this party. His parents are the ones who planned it—and if that isn't enough reason to want to ditch the entire thing, he doesn't what is.

Wes—perfect, dutiful Wes—promised their parents that they would both be in attendance to entertain all the sons and daughters of the business associates they didn't really care about. He promised that they'd play nice, that they'd be the perfect hosts, that they'd dress up in three piece suits and kiss the hands of snooty heiresses and pretend that they were as flawless and gentlemanly as the tabloids believe they were, even though every smile they flashed was totally fake. He promised he'd take care of his "rebellious younger brother" and make sure that Soul would behave.

But then he invited Blake Barrett.

That was the moment Soul realized his brother was full of shit. And he fucking loved him for it.

Blake Barrett—only son of Sid and Mira Barrett, co-founders of Barricade Inc., the most illustrious electronics company on the West Coast—is the closest thing Soul has a best friend. He's also really fucking crazy. Blake doesn't possess any volume control, has no sense of personal space, and doesn't seem to understand the fundamental laws of human behavior, but somehow Blake's deficiencies in all things that make a perfect liar in their circles are the very reasons Soul trusts him the most.

In short, Blake is the only person Soul knows who always tells the truth—even when he shouldn't.

Soul isn't sure how it happens. One second they're stealing their second bottle of champagne from the kitchen while trying to avoid their parents, and the next, they've hijacked everyone from the party under the age of eighteen and are breaking into Soul's neighbor's backyard to use his fancy pool.

Sans clothing.

He blames Blake because ninety-nine percent of all bad ideas come from Blake's excuse for a non-brain, but Soul thinks the alcohol might also have something to do with it since he only protested a handful of times compared to his usual dozen.

"YAHOOOO!" Blake hollers as he sprints the last couple feet and cannon balls into the pool, buck-ass naked. Soul catches a glimpse of a snowy moon and bright blue shrubs surrounding a not-so-subtle peen, and he's pretty sure he won't be able to look at blue raspberry jolly ranchers the same ever again. The others don't seem to be fighting the same urge to vomit as Soul is because they simply cackle and jump in after Blake, sporting exactly the same amount of clothing as him—which is to say _none at freaking all_.

"Scarring, isn't it?"

Startled, Soul glances over just in time to see the girl who'd spoken unclasp her bra and drop it to the ground.

Soul chokes on his own spit.

Faintly he registers silky blond hair and dainty shoulders and flawlessly pale skin, but that's all overshadowed by the fact that the stranger next to him is currently bending over to shimmy her black lace panties down her thighs, effectively stripping to her birthday suit and stealing every thought he's ever had in the process.

His name? Gone. His reason for living? Definitely to stare at her boobs. He may be seventeen years old and best friend to the biggest pervert on the planet, but this is the first time Soul has ever seen a naked girl in the flesh—pun intended—and he is not acting nearly as cool as he hoped he would.

Luckily, the pretty girl seems amused by his utter lack of cool because she laughs again at the dumbfounded look on his face, one hand lifting past her chest to point as she giggles, "My eyes are up here, you know."

His gaze snaps up immediately to meet the eyes in question and he stops breathing at the amusement in them because they're staring right at him and they're green. Green, and soft, and round like her—

"Boobs," Soul blurts out, and then his face turns as red as his eyes and he wishes more than anything that lightning will strike down from the clear night sky and put him out of his misery.

The girl simply laughs. "You're adorable. Soul, right?" At his gaping jaw, she adds, "That's your house next door, isn't it? Where the party is?"

"Y- _nnnhnngh_." He's finding it very hard to form words when she's not wearing any clothes.

She's presses her lips together like she's trying very hard to hide a smile. "Well, it's nice to meet you, _ynnnghhh_. I feel like I should introduce myself, but we've already skipped a couple bases and your eyes are practically having seizures so you don't look at my breasts. How about I just say I'll see you in the pool?" With that, she gives him an adorable wave of her fingers then leaps into the water with a flawless cannonball that makes a bigger splash than should be physically possible considering how small she is.

The naked crowd erupts into cheers.

"Yo, Evans!" calls Blake. "You gonna get in the pool or what, assface?"

Soul likes to think he doesn't have many issues with his body—he's more apathetic towards it than anything else, and he's certainly not bad looking, not if his mother's gushing is any indication—but it is in that moment that he realizes for certain that he Fucked Up.

After all, by hesitating and being the last one to strip and jump into the pool, everyone else is already below ground level, shielded by water, staring at him. Waiting. Watching. The pressure is on.

Soul wants to die.

"Come on, Evans!" yells Kilik Rung, one of the few guys he does recognize from the party before they all ditched and snuck into Kid's house. "Live a little."

"Yeah, Evans!" agrees one of the girls with a giggle. "Don't wimp out. You only get to participate in a mock-orgy once, after all."

"Especially with that ugly mug," snickers Blake, earning him a scolding splash from Big Green Eyes, who shushes him and tells him not to peer pressure.

Ah, fuck it. It's not like he can embarrass himself any more than he already has.

Not wanting to look like a wimp in front of the prettiest pair of boobs he's ever seen, Soul begins to strip, ignoring the loud cheers that erupt from the pool lest he turn an uncomfortable shade of red all over, even in the dim lighting of his neighbor's backyard. He then hastily slides into the deep end of the pool, away from where most of the teenagers are treading. It may not be a grand entrance but it is an entrance all the same, which earns him an encouraging barrage of cheers from the others.

He blushes.

"You actually made it," Green Eyes giggles, swimming over to him. He thanks sweet wonderful mercies that the water blurs out her other most defining features below the neckline and therefore his as well. "I thought you were going to skimp out like you always do."

"Always?" he echoes with a frown.

"Maks, are you intimidating my boy?" bellows Blake. "Don't make me kick your ass!"

Soul looks confused. "Maks?"

"Maka," the girl corrects. "Blake just likes to pretend we're a lot closer than we are by issuing a series of very unfortunate nicknames. That's not even the worst of them."

"You know Blake?"

"These circles are a lot smaller than they look, Soul. We all tend to stick together when it comes to functions like this because otherwise we'd lose our goddamn minds between layers of chiffon and bullshit." She offers him a teasing smile. "You'd know that if you stopped ignoring all our invitations for anarchist get-togethers disguised as parties."

That's when it clicks. This girl is Maka Albarn, daughter of Spirit Albarn, founder and CEO of Scythemeister, the leading brand of vodka and vodka-based drinks consumed by the general public this side of Kentucky and especially overseas. Blake _has_ mentioned her before—typically in the context of her "Best Friend with the Enormous Melons"—and she is telling the truth. Soul _does_ ditch every time Blake invites him to public gatherings of other human beings. The only time he deigns to interact with people is when his parents force him to, hence why he doesn't know any of these other teenagers that Blake acts so comfortably around.

Blake says their group calls themselves Spartoi. Apparently, they do crazy things together on the reg and have a rule where no insane deed goes unaccompanied, which is typically how Blake manages to strong-arm others into being his partner in crime through even the most random acts of terror.

Soul's red eyes flicker to the blurry shapes beneath the water again. Maybe he should stop being such a loner, after all.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The voice makes him freeze. Eleven pairs of eyes swivel to the surface where the illusive Xic Mortimer Jr—better known as Kid to those who've met him—stands at the foot of the pool— _his_ pool—wearing a very displeased expression.

"Kid!" croons one of the blond sisters. Polly? No, Patty, he's pretty sure. "You made it!"

Kid scowls. "Anyone going to explain what you're doing in my pool in the middle of an Evans party? Or how you even got past the security system without my knowledge?"

Just when Soul thinks they're all done for and are going to get arrested and thrown in jail—and damn it, he's barely lived, let alone touched a boob—Patty's sister Liz flashes the dark-haired stickler a brilliant smile. "Depends. Are you going to join us?"

As it turns out, the youngest Mortimer is as susceptible to peer pressure and breasts as Soul is.

"Kid likes to pretend he's Spartoi's de facto voice of reason," Maka explains at Soul's dumbfounded look, "but he's whipped when it comes to our darling Elizabeth and everyone knows it. She can get him to do just about anything—even ditch fancy networking parties to skinny dip in his own pool."

"You know, I've lived next to him my whole life and I never knew he actually liked girls."

"One girl," Maka corrects, "and that's what happens when you never leave your house, dork."

Soul grimaces. Fair enough. "I just can't believe you all willingly and knowingly hang out with Blake."

"You do too, or so I've heard. Blake always talks about his best bro Soul with the shark teeth and tendency to turn into a sputtering puddle of stupid in the presence of anyone of the opposite sex."

At Soul's scowl, Maka laughs, throwing her arms to rest on the side of the pool so she doesn't have to keep treading water. The act makes the delicate angles of her shoulders flex and Soul has never thought to be fascinated by female shoulder blades before this very moment, but for the life of him, he can't look away.

She slides him a brilliant smile. "Don't worry. I think it's sweet."

His eyes flash with realization. "You were teasing me earlier. When you stripped."

Maka is unapologetic. "I wanted to know if Blake was telling the truth." She grins as she eyes him. "He definitely was."

Soul pretends to drown himself in the water, making her laugh.

Somewhere on the deck among the piles of hastily discarded clothes, a cell phone starts ringing. Followed by another, and another, and another, until they're bombarded by a discorded symphony of bad ring tones and trouble.

Jacqueline groans. "And the parents have reached enlightenment."

"Took them long enough to notice we were missing," mutters Kim.

"Who's going to be the one to breach the world back from Narnia first?"

In what turns out to be a very impressive display of synchrony, there's a succession of splashes as everyone snaps a hand to their nose and turns to stare expectantly at Soul. Soul frowns, lost for a moment as he glances down at his own hand still treading in the water, before it dawns on him.

"Oh, motherf—"

* * *

He's sitting on the roof outside his window when she finds him. He's not sure how she knew where he'd be or how she got up here, but he doesn't ask and she doesn't tell him. Instead, she climbs onto the platform to his left, smoothing down her skirt as she takes a seat, and says, "How much longer do you think it'll be before they let us go home?"

Soul snorts. "If you're all hostages in this party situation, what does that make me?"

"You're the gentle captor," Maka says automatically. "You know—there's always one that has more of a conscience than the others. He sneaks the captives extra food, keeps them company when his co-conspirators aren't around, tells them sweet lies like he'll get them out of there even though the captives know he doesn't have a say. It's cute though. It's the thought that counts."

Sliding her an incredulous glance, he says, "I feel like you were trying to make me feel better, but that just makes it worse."

Maka's laugh is a sweet, gentle thing in the night, surrounded by the flowing music and low chatter of the still-ongoing party below. After all the children were summoned back by the parents, Soul managed to escape among the chaos, not in any mood to deal with his parents' disapproval right now. There's plenty of that to smother him on any other day.

He tries not to sneak glances at her, but it's impossible not to, even though he's aware he's being totally obvious about it. She just looks so damn ethereal sitting there on his roof, her hair still damp and wavy down her back, her knees pulled to her chest as she stares up at the clear night sky with something like contentment. For all the years he's lived in this house, he's never felt as comfortable in it as she seems to be here on this roof, away from the crowds, sitting with a boy she met only a couple of hours ago.

Suspicion gets the better of him. After all, why would this beautiful, confident girl sit here with him instead of hang out with the rest of her friends at the party below? "Did my mother send you to bring me back down?"

Maka turns to him with a raised eyebrow. "Are you calling me a double agent, Evans?"

"Answering a question with a question seems very double agent to me."

"I _wish_ I were that cool." She exhales deeply, closing her eyes against the haze of this entire night. "Nah, I'm just not in the mood to socialize at the moment. Do you mind if I stay here with you?"

It takes more effort than he'd like to admit for him to keep his voice level as he answers, "Do what you want."

They're quiet then, but it's not uncomfortable like Soul expected it to be. Normally when he's around people, he gets anxious and jittery because he isn't much of a talker and he knows that makes people uncomfortable as they try to fill the silence with useless babbles, which only makes him uncomfortable in turn, which then saturates the air with a potent awkwardness that makes him want to curl up in a ball and hide until everyone else fades away. His body is tense as he waits for her to try to talk to him, to try and force conversation, exchange polite pleasantries, maybe even talk about the fucking weather as if that's less awkward than saying nothing at all—but she doesn't do any of that.

Instead, Maka simply rests her chin on her knees and breathes deeply, in and out, as if that's all she needs to stay alive. With each exhale, Soul finds his shoulders losing their tension the more he realizes she really meant what she said. She's here to escape the crowds, just as he is.

He doesn't realize he's staring until she opens her eyes and those startlingly green orbs meet his, jolting him to attention so suddenly that he nearly falls off the roof. Like she had at Kid's house, his total lack of cool seems to amuse her, and these two perfect little dimples appear on her lower cheeks as she struggles not to laugh.

"You know, you're exactly as Blake described you." When Soul groans, she loses her fight and laughs out loud. "Don't worry. It might surprise you to hear this, but he's only ever said good things."

The look he gives her is not only incredulous but flat-out disbelieving. "Bullshit."

"Would I lie to you?"

"I don't know you enough to answer that question."

"You know I dislike these parties as much as you do."

"Who doesn't?"

"Our parents," she answers automatically, and Soul can't help the small snort that escapes him. She grins. "Promise you'll shoot me if I ever grow up to become the kind of person who finds pleasure in sucking up to other rich people over expensive champagne no one likes and soulless music no one connects with?"

"Only if you promise to do the same."

Maka hums. "You know, a suicide pact while hanging out on a third-story roof probably isn't in the best taste."

"Hey, you're the one who brought it up," he says as he leans back on his palms, strangely relaxed with their banter. "I was just sitting here, minding my own business, when you burst in here all Dawson's Creek-like, demanding to keep me company."

"You know, I'd be all for that reference if Dawson's Creek didn't decree that I'd fall in love with your best friend."

Soul nearly has an aneurysm just thinking about Maka and Blake as a couple, which makes her laugh at the look on his face.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Depends," he says. "Is it going to make me want to throw up my dinner like the image of you boning Blake that just popped up in my head?"

She shudders. "God no. In fact, if we can rightfully dismiss the possibility altogether, that would be great."

"Done and done." For selfish reasons he won't admit. "What is it you wanted to tell me?"

"I've always wanted to meet you." When he looks at her, startled, she actually blushes a little, which makes her impossibly cuter than before and Soul wants to jab himself in the brain for how pathetic it's being. "I mean, not to be creepy or anything," she hurries to add, "but Blake talks about you all the time and you have to be some sort of saint to be able to put up with him like you do, so I figured you must be a cool guy."

For a moment, all he can do is stare at her, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Maka flipping Albarn wanted to meet _him_ , of all people. Him, freak albino of Shibusen and disappointer of parents. Him, Mr. Awkward Extraordinaire.

Finding his voice box is not as smooth as he wishes it were. "You—wha _huuuhhh_?" _Dear lord, kill me now._

Maka presses two hands to her cheeks as if somehow the pressure will be enough to make the pink go away, and when she lets out a shaky laugh, somehow the fact that she also feels shy in his presence calms him down in a way that even the strongest doses of Xanax have never been able to accomplish. Especially when she admits shyly, "It makes me feel a little better that I'm not the only awkward one here," which only echoes his thoughts and makes him gape even more with how perfectly she is reading his mind.

"I—uh—yeah," he says lamely, and cringes, and then adds, "I mean, if I knew you'd be there, I might've actually went with Blake to one of the Spartoi parties he's always telling me about."

"Yeah?" she asks hopefully.

Soul is going to die. He is going to die because Maka Albarn is the cutest thing he's ever seen in his entire life and he doesn't know how to breathe right now without actively heaving, let alone speak. "Y-y _-_ yeah. I kind of assumed that most of Blake's friends were more like him, so that's why I've always avoided those kinds of things."

Maka shudders. "The thought of two Blake Barretts, let alone an entire army of them, is enough to make me want to lock myself in a bomb shelter and never leave. If I thought the same thing, I'd probably avoid our group like the plague just as you did, but I promise we're not like him." She pauses. Grins. "Well, I mean, we're all a little bit crazy, but it's a different kind of crazy than Blake's belief that he will one day transcend the gods."

"You all ditched a fancy party filled with our parents to strip in my neighbor's pool," Soul says wryly. "I think it's safe to say Blake isn't the only one with a few marbles missing."

"Oh, and you're so sane?" She raises one perfectly arched brow at him. "What normal things do you do when you're avoiding hanging out with us?"

"N-n-nothing!"

"That blush on your face says you either spend your time playing Warcraft, writing elaborate fanfictions for obscure fandoms, or masturbating."

"M-MAKA!"

"All three at the same time? Huh." She taps a finger against her chin then shrugs. "Hey, I'm not judging. Whatever gets your rocks off, if ya know what I mean. You do you."

"Ohmygod." Soul buries his crimson face in his hands and wills himself to disappear through the shingles or at least for a very minor apocalypse to take over his home so he doesn't have to face the reality of this situation.

Maka's sweet laugh fills his ears, and when he feels a gentle hand touch his shoulder, he grudgingly lifts his head to see her watching him with nothing but pure affection. No judgement, no malice, no cruelty. Just kindness mixed with good-natured amusement. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of you, Soul. Really. To be honest, I hope I'm at least a little right. I could use the gaming partner. Blake's not bad, but he can be a little overzealous and he's a terrible teammate because he always rushes ahead without thinking. I can only stand a couple rounds with him before I want to strangle him."

Soul gapes at her. "You play?"

"What, you think guys are the only ones who can like video games?"

"What? N-no! I just—I didn't—I mean—"

He's cut off by the sound of her trilling laugh, so much like music to his ears. "Relax, Soul, I'm just teasing," she giggles. "But yeah. I mean, I've only dabbled in Warcraft before, but I play League pretty competitively and I can kick your ass in any fighter game known to man."

"False," he denies instantly. "I'm unbeatable as Sub-Zero in MKX, so clearly we know you don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"Oh yeah?" she challenges. "Well, I've never lost as Raiden, Mileena, _or_ Kenshi, so clearly we know which one of us is more versatile."

His crimson eyes narrow. "I have a PS4 in my room. Are you willing to put those cocky lies to the test?"

Soul isn't sure how her smile can be both sweet as hell and the hottest thing he's ever seen, but it is. "Oh, you're so on."

Unfortunately, they only manage to turn on the game while exchanging some pre-fight taunts that are admittedly over-the-top but also incredibly fun when the door to his bedroom flies open and Spirit Albarn appears, looking near tears.

"MAAKAAAAAAAAA!" the red headed man cries, throwing himself at his daughter. "There you are—I've been looking all over for you! Where have you been? Why are you hiding from me? And what are you doing hanging around with this _boy_?" Maka's father tightens his trip around her and sneers—full-out _sneers_ —in Soul's direction. "Hands off my daughter, Octopus Head. If I find out you laid your grimy fingers on her, you're dead."

"Octopus Head?" Soul blubbers. "What the fuck?"

Sighing like she's suddenly aged ten years in thirty seconds, Maka untangles herself from her father's grasp and nearly kicks him away, a deeply unhappy look crossing her face. "Dad, cool it. Soul and I were just hanging out. Stop being rude."

"But you're in his room! BY YOURSELF!"

"So?" she says impatiently. "I hang out with Blake all the time by myself and you never say anything then."

"That's because—that's _different_!" her father insists. "Blake is an idiot but he's an idiot who would never touch you! But this one—"

"His name is Soul, Dad."

"—is a hooligan!"

Soul huffs, kind of offended. He's been called a lot of things in his seventeen years of mediocracy—lazy, a disappointment, and an underachiever to start—but he's certainly never been branded a hooligan before and he doesn't know how to feel that the first person to slap him with that label is a man who is currently grasping at his daughter's knees like a desperate, soap opera-inspired ex.

Maka seems twice as exasperated as Soul. She shoots him a look that is somewhere between apologetic and a plea for him to shoot her on the spot to save her from her misery. "Dad, let go of me. Stop acting like a child."

"No!" the grown man wails. "I won't leave you alone with this delinquent! You can't make me!"

"If you don't go downstairs and wait for me by the car within the next thirty seconds, I swear to god I'll call Mom."

The absolute horror on her father's face is almost enough to make Soul feel sorry for him. _Almost_.

After another bout of wailing, Spirit Albarn obeys his daughter's command and Maka pinches the bridge of her nose for a full ten seconds before she finally faces Soul, her expression grim. "Sorry about that. I have to go take care of him before he decides to accidentally burn your house down with spilled vodka and a cigar."

Disappointment floods him but he tries very hard not to let it show. "Y-yeah, of course. That's fine."

"Are you busy tomorrow?"

Soul blinks stupidly. "Huh?"

"Well, I never got the chance to kick your ass in MK and I don't like to leave my threats unfulfilled if I can help it. If you're not doing anything tomorrow, I'd like to follow through."

His heart beats fast. "Uhhhhh mmm y-yeah! I'd like—I mean, that'd be cool," he coughs, lowering his voice so he doesn't sound like a total wimp in his attempt not to kiss her feet. "Yeah. Sure. If you want."

When she presses her lips together to hide a smile, Soul wonders if that's something she does often or if it's just because he's so much of an idiot that he makes it happen on a more than regular basis. She holds out her hand. "Your phone?" she prompts amusedly when he merely stares at her outstretched arm like an imbecile.

He is a tomato. "O-of course! Sorry!"

After she's done punching in what he assumes is her number, she hands it back. "Text me tomorrow when you've got the time? I'll come over and we can hash this out for real."

Soul bobs his head up and down, his face still embarrassingly red. "Sounds good."

"Cool." Maka is halfway out the door when she pauses and throws a look over her shoulder. "And Soul?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Your fly is undone."

* * *

 **a/n:** _it's 2018 and i just discovered soul eater and i can't handle it because this ship is literally taking over my life._

 _please send help. and more soul x maka cuteness to read._

 _xo  
_ _chloe_


	2. drink or dare

**a/n:** _i set my story in california instead of nevada for event purposes (mostly because i like the beachy, summer, rich kid vibe for these crazy children). a_ _lso, mild content warning for underage drinking. the rating will most likely change in future chapters, but for now, i'm keeping things rated t. enjoy! x_

* * *

 **chapter two: drink or dare**

 _Having a social life is rough. Especially when all your new friends can drink you under the table._

* * *

Wes is like a proud mother sending his son off to prom for the first time, tears and mock-snapshots and all.

"Oh, get off it," Soul snaps with embarrassment when his older brother croons and hovers around him at their front door. "I'm not getting married or whatever. This isn't even a date. A friend is just picking me up so I don't have the option to ditch or bail because she knows I really don't want to go to this thing anyway."

"A _friend_ ," Wes fake-sobs, sniffling into imaginary tissues.

"I fucking hate you." The doorbell rings, as if summoned, and Soul fixes his brother with a poisonous glare. "Do _not_ embarrass me or I'll tell Dad about your secret stash of schoolgirl porn and the other unmentionables you think you're so good at hiding."

The horrified look on Wes's face is almost as satisfying as his silence. Almost.

"Hey, Soul," Maka greets when he opens the door. Even though he's seen her many times since the Pool Party That Shall Not Be Mentioned from several weeks ago, he still can't get over how damn cute she is. Like a puppy, all big eyes and sweet smiles and affectionate kisses.

His eyes immediately go to her head and he almost grins at the small speckled bow holding back a section of her blond hair. One thing he's come to realize over the past month is that she dresses like the cutest human on the planet, more anime character than actual girl, always topped with some sort of hair trinket that would normally go on a five-year-old but somehow works for her.

Psychologists would probably have something to say about him being turned on by that.

She rises to her tiptoes and presses her lips against his cheek like she always does, an heiress greeting he thanks the lords for daily, before her eyes dart to the idiot standing behind him. They widen. "Wes!"

"Maka?" Wes looks just as surprised to see her and he fixes Soul with something like an accusing look. "The secret friend you're always talking about is Maka Albarn?"

Soul frowns. "You two know each other?"

"We were in the same class together at Shibusen Prep," Maka explains. "Graduated the year before you started there. Didn't you ever wonder why I don't attend with you and Blake?"

" _What_? But—but—you're my age!"

She shrugs a little sheepishly. "Skipped a few years. It's no big deal."

"She's lying," Wes says. "Maka graduated at the top of our class despite being four years younger. She was a genius. I swear, she never got anything less than a point off perfect. She was everyone's go-to when it came to anything academic, and she was also everyone's go-to crush."

"I was a stubborn know-it-all who hadn't even hit puberty until my second last year, but thank you, you're sweet for saying that," she laughs. "Let's also rewrite the part where I got so drunk during the junior kick-off party that you had to physically escort me home."

Wes laughs loudly. "It was your first experience with alcohol. Compared to mine, it wasn't that bad."

"I was twelve. It was still bad." She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "I had no idea you were here. I thought you skipped town after graduation and went on tour or something."

"Yeah, I just finished the last leg of the recent rotation. Thought I'd come home for a bit to hang out with my baby bro before I head back to Europe." Wes shifts on his feet, even as he maintains an odd smile. "I heard you stuck around in Santa Monica. UCLA, right?"

"Yeah, my dad was a mess after the divorce and he needed me, so I couldn't exactly bail on him, even if I wanted to. It's only a twenty-minute drive from home." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and lets out a small laugh, but there's something strange about the way she avoids eye contact and Wes's expression tightens so slightly that Soul thinks he's imagining it. "Now can we please not continue this trek down memory lane? There are lot of stops I don't care to revisit, especially not in front of your baby brother here. He still thinks I'm cool and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Sure, for a kiss." Wes taps his cheek expectantly.

As Maka rises on her toes to follow through, Soul tries not to imagine murdering his older brother as he grumbles, "Yeah, yeah, let's get going before we're late and Blake decides to bestow us with a ridiculous punishment for keeping him waiting."

Wes grins at him like he knows his secret. It's thoroughly annoying. "Sure, little brother. Have fun." This time, he's the one who kisses Maka's cheek. "Please go easy on him. My brother is a gentle soul."

Soul scowls. "I don't appreciate that pun."

Laughing, Maka hooks her arm through his and beams up at him as she promises Wes, "Don't worry, I always treat the new ones like virgins. Gotta ease them in _real_ slow."

With that, she leads him out the door with his brother cackling behind them and a boner the size of Texas.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew my brother?" Soul asks when he straps into the passenger side of her Maserati, trying very hard not to sound betrayed. "If you knew him well enough to attend parties together during high school, I think it's worth mentioning, considering we've been talking every day for the past few weeks over text and voice chat."

"First of all, non-nerds call voice chat a _phone call_ , you colossal dork—" She grins at his scowl. "—and secondly, I kind of thought you already knew and were just being nice not to mention it. I was a genius rich kid who thought I was smarter than everyone else because no one dared to tell Spirit Albarn's daughter otherwise. I'm not proud of the stick up my ass back then. Wes is being sweet, but you and I, Soul, we never would've gotten along."

"What changed?"

"I hit puberty and grew up." She shrugs nonchalantly as she speeds out of the Evans Mansion's ridiculously long driveway, flawlessly merging onto the street. "Anyway, why do you think I appreciate Blake so much despite his utter tendency to be an idiot? He makes things fun. Interesting. He's so much of a pompous ass that he keeps the rest of us grounded. We've known each other since we were kids—our parents are very close friends—and every time I stuck up my nose, he was right there, ready to knock it back down. I want to gut-punch him half the time but he's a good person and he's definitely a really good friend to have."

"Yeah," Soul agrees quietly, understanding the feeling. As annoying as Blake is, Soul wouldn't have an excuse for a social life without it. He also wouldn't have met Maka and then where would he be?

"Don't tell him I said that though," Maka adds in a grumble. "His head is big enough without us inflating it to twice the size."

Agreed. "How the hell do you find the time to play League and go to college at the same time anyway?" He can barely manage the effort to put on pants in the morning, and here she is—super genius, social butterfly, and dream girl gamer all in one.

Her answer is simple and cheerful. "I don't sleep."

Soul snorts.

"No, but really though, I'm kind of just lucky," she admits. "I was blessed with really good memory and perception, which makes it a lot easier for me to understand things in class than it is for other people. Plus, I actually _enjoy_ studying. Learning new things is fun to me. It's why I like League so much: it's unpredictable, complicated, challenging. I don't have time to play as much during the school year, but I use it as a stress reliever whenever it feels like the pressure of everything else is going to get to me."

"League as a stress reliever," he deadpans. "You don't hear that every day."

Maka slides a grin his way as they pull to a stop at a red light. "Not if we play with Blake, we don't."

The memory makes him groan out loud.

Never. Again.

The three of them ran through Summoner's Rift with a couple randoms the other night and it only reminded Soul why he typically never played with people he knew in real life. It's like Mario Party: potentially friendship ruining. After that match, Soul had to sit with his fingers pressing into his temple for a full sixty seconds to resist the urge to storm over to Blake's house and smack him repeatedly upside the head.

Beforehand, Soul and Maka had agreed that Blake's _personality_ —read: his tendency to jump first into situations without thinking like a trigger-happy maniac—made it impossible for him to be anything but a tank or jungler. They'd tentatively broached the subject with Blake and were glad that he insisted he was a god and was going to "ruin those fucking motherfuckers, just you watch, I'll own that shitty lane and beat everyone," therefore solidifying his role as a tank.

That actually worked best for their team since Maka was by far the best ganking jungler Soul had ever played with. She had insane versatility, foresight, and crowd-control to the point where it felt almost broken. In hindsight, Soul should've known she was some sort of super genius because he had never seen anyone grasp minion spawn and respawn times the way she did. Her memory was impeccable, and her ability to apply her knowledge and react accordingly was nothing short of impressive. The first few times they played together in the same room, he had trouble keeping his eyes off her screen because she was like a fortune teller, always knowing where and how monsters were going to attack before they even appeared and reacting to laners in an instant by locking them down so Soul could take the kill.

The two of them made a pretty good team, if he could say so himself.

Unfortunately, they forgot to take into account Blake's need to be the star. Once the blue-haired idiot realized how well Maka was doing, he quickly abandoned his lane and proceeded to fuck shit up for everyone while Maka and Soul howled at him through voice chat.

Soul's anxiety makes his blood pressure rise on the reg. Having to deal with a maniacal Blake Barrett on a rampage did not make for a fun time.

"Not gonna lie, but I feel a little inadequate right now," Soul comments, only half-joking. "You're way too smart to be hanging out with a slacker like me. Hell, you're probably too smart to be hanging out with _any_ of us—especially me and Blake."

"Maybe I like being the smartest one in the room," she teases.

He snorts. "Don't be stupid, Maka. You're the smartest person in _every_ room."

At that, she practically glows, and Soul thanks heaven and hell that she's the one driving right now because he couldn't take his eyes off her if he tried.

* * *

When you grow up in certain circles, you come to expect a certain level of prestige to the houses of people you call your friends. It's only natural. As much as you want to say you don't care about people's backgrounds and how much money they make, it's hard to create genuine friendships with people who aren't used to the same lifestyle because you never know if you can really trust them or not.

The Evans Manor is like something from a movie. Blake and Maka's houses are just as grand.

But Kim Diehl's mansion... it's a fucking _castle_.

"Holy shit," Soul breathes as Maka drives up the extended cobblestone driveway, past several different guest houses and secondary buildings as they head towards the main one at the end. "I know this seems hypocritical coming from a guy who has a grand ballroom in his own house, but this seems... excessive."

Maka laughs at the dumbfounded look on his face. "What can I say? The Diehls are a big deal. Just wait until you see the inside."

Understatement of the century. If not for Maka leading the way inside the massive, extravagant building, Soul is certain he would've been lost. For days.

As it turns out, they're the last ones to arrive. Everyone else is already spread out around the lounge area in front of half a dozen bowls of chips and other snacks as well as a giant screen that can't be called a TV because it covers the entire freaking wall.

"Hey, look who made it!"

Kim and Jackie are lounging back on the far leg of the massive couch with the Patty and Harvar spread out beside them. Ox, Kilik, Blake, and Tsubaki claim beanbag chairs closest to the snack table, and Liz sits between Kid's legs, leaning against his back while they're both swaddled with a fluffy grey blanket. They all wave and grin as Soul and Maka walk in.

Maka instantly drops her bag by the entrance, steals a chip bowl right from Blake's protesting hands, and drops into the empty seat in the middle of the craze. She then pats the spot next to her and raises a brow at Soul, who still hovers in the doorway. "Are you just going to stand there or are you going to join in?"

He crawls awkwardly onto the couch next to Maka and tries not to blush like an idiot when she stretches a spare blanket over both their legs, cuddling them together. She offers him the bowl, but he's so nervous he knows he'll choke to death if he tries to eat right now so he declines. Maka grins as if she can read his mind, all the while popping another chip in her perky little mouth.

Traitor.

"Alright, now that the slowpokes are finally here, I guess we can get started," Kim says. She nods to Harvar who immediately nods back and starts unscrewing lids. "What's your poison, Shark Tale?"

"Poison?" Soul echoes. " _Shark Tale?_ "

Maka waves him off. "Give the boy a Jack and Coke like me to start. Thanks, Harv." She accepts the glass and hands it off to Soul's startled hands, then graciously claims the next one as her own. She takes a sip and moans. "Mmmm, perfect. You're a god among men."

Harvar grins. "I aim to please."

"IT IS DISRESPECTFUL TO YOUR GOD TO REFER THAT TITLE TO SOMEONE ELSE," Blake bellows. "Your punishment will await you, dear mortal!"

Tsubaki gives Maka an apologetic look and admits, "He drank quite a bit before we got here."

"Why am I not surprised," Maka snorts. "Guess we just need to catch up before the game starts." She clinks her glass against Soul's then proceeds to take another gulp. When he merely stares at her like a deer in the headlights, she grins. "Stop looking like I'm about to hit you with my car, Evans. This is how it works. Just go with it."

"I am very confused right now." For some reason, when he agreed to hang out with Spartoi today, this was not what he had expected. So far he's only socialized with Maka and Blake outside of the group, and his interactions with the former have mostly been limited to chill nights watching nerdy movies and TV shows, playing video games, or following her around on errands. Last week, she and Blake dragged him out to a local fair in which Soul spent most of the time playing mediator while they tried to kill each other during carnival games.

That has been the extent of his social activity thus far. This is a whole different ball game and Soul is thoroughly underprepared.

"There's no need to be confused," she promises him. "There's only one rule to game night and one rule only: everyone leaves either drunk or in the morning. No exceptions."

"HEAR HEAR," everyone cheers, lifting their cups in the air before taking a drink. Even Kid participates.

"So we're just going to sit here and drink?" Soul asks in confusion.

Kim shakes her head. "That's only part of it. We're all bored heirs and heiresses, are we not? Real life is crap. There's nothing to do. So we, as Spartoi, like to get together regularly to find excuses to do nothing while consuming alcohol in the most interesting fashion that does not include mingling with other people."

"We hate other people," Jackie explains.

"Yeah, fuck other people," Liz agrees. "Big parties are typically lame and going to bars is only fun for people who don't know what they want in life. We, however, do. We like to play games. We like alcohol. And we like to rib on each other. There's no better place than this."

Huh. "I can get behind that," Soul says.

Ox lifts his cup. "Good man."

"Of course, we _do_ occasionally leave the great sanctuary that is the Diehl House," Maka explains, "especially for dares, adventures, and expensive trips outside the state. But our go-to weekly event is a game night in which we reenact a Fight Club Vegas scenario where what happens with Spartoi stays with Spartoi. Understand, Evans?"

"This sounds kind of like a cult."

"Now you've got it." Kilik grins.

Soul tests his drink, makes a face, then takes another sip. "So you guys keep calling this game night or whatever. Do we actually play a game or is the game just to see who occupies the toilet for the most amount of time at the end of the night?"

The others burst out laughing at his comment, but despite trying to keep it cool, Soul is kind of freaking out. While he's good at MOBAs and fighters, his proficiency with anything competitive or game-related starts and ends with the online variety—especially when he doesn't have to deal with other humans face-to-face. Sometimes he even hates dealing with them behind a screen.

He has trouble interacting with people when it comes to the basic, everyday things—like ordering a coffee without making a complete ass of himself—so trying to assimilate into this group of eccentric teenagers in a competitive setting?

Soul is going to die.

As if sensing his anxiety, Maka's hand finds his and she squeezes gently while offering him the kindest, most reassuring smile without being the least bit condescending. Just a simple _it's okay, I'm here, I've got you_ , and while the tension is still there, it does ebb significantly when Maka skinny little fingers are gripping his.

To the others, she quips, "See, guys? I told you. Soul fits right in."

Apparently there are several so-called games that run through the night and most of them are only side events for the main purpose of just hanging out with friends. The first is a moustache game. They play a series of movies on the giant screen that they only sometimes pay attention to—movies that had been voted in during the previous game night, which Soul will have a say in next time—and the person who had won the right to choose the movie gets to place the fake moustache anywhere on the screen. When a character's face lines up perfectly with the moustache, the first person who yells, "PIERRE!" is safe while everyone else is forced to take a drink.

Yes, it is as nonsensical as it sounds.

Yes, the game was created by Maka Albarn.

There are several other passively running games similar to the moustache game that run throughout the night, but the main event of the night is a challenge of Command Whistle, which is like Truth or Dare except the victim has no choice in whether they have to answer a question or complete a dare.

"We don't play this game often anymore because we tend to get out of hand," Tsubaki admits.

"COUGH MAKA COUGH!"

"Shut the fuck up, Blake! Says _you_!"

"—but considering you're new to Spartoi, we decided we had to christen you the right way," Liz finishes for Tsubaki over Maka and Blake's back-and-forth argument that only stops when Harvar dutifully shoves a handful of chips in Blake's mouth to shut him up.

Maka preens.

"Because we want to trick you into thinking we're fair people to start, you can go first." Kim nods. "Go ahead, Baby Evans. Announce your victim and decree."

Soul grimaces. "I demand that everyone stop calling me Baby Evans."

"Boooo," everyone groans.

Blake throws a handful of chips at him. "Are you serious, man? You get to start off Command Whistle and you choose that as your first behest?"

"I don't like being called a baby," Soul says defensively.

"Fine, whatever, it's done," Jackie says. "It's your loss. Since you didn't direct the stupid dare to a single person, we'll throw the whistle up in the air to determine the next tormenter. Three, two, one—"

Eleven hands instantly shoot up in the air.

"YES!" Blake cheers, waving four fingers around like a maniac, ignoring Maka's groan. "I AM GOD!"

Soul blinks. "What the hell just happened?"

"If there's not a definitive torch passed onto one person, we determine the next darer by doing something we call 'throwing the whistle up in the air,'" Kim explains. "On the count of three, everyone is to put up a hand with a random amount of fingers raised, and the person who chooses a number that no one else has is the winner. In Blake's case, he's the only one who chose the number four."

Jackie nods against her girlfriend's shoulder. "If there's more than one person who chooses each number, the people who chose the number with the least amount of others play Rock, Paper, Scissors until a person is crowned."

"This game is a lot more complicated than I initially thought," mutters Soul.

"You'll get used to it," Kilik and Maka chorus, wearing matching grins.

"PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR GOD," booms Blake. "I have a command for my oldest, most loyal subject and you must all listen to what I have to say."

Maka makes a face. "How did I know you were going to choose me…"

Three hours later, Soul is unfortunately privy to way more personal information about his new friends than he ever wanted to know (like what fetishes Kid jerks his meatstick to and the fact that Blake's carpets _do_ match the drapes). During that time, the twelve of them manage to polish off an impressive amount of alcohol which results in Soul being unable to feel his toes.

He also ends up kissing nearly half the people in Spartoi—including Ox and Harvar during the most awkward three seconds of his life.

Unfortunately, none of his so-called new friends dare him to kiss Maka. The traitors.

When Soul complains about being picked on after a very uncomfortable liplock with a very gay Jacqueline Dupré, Liz promises that they've all done this before, so it's only fair that he's put through the same initiation. "Our group is a little—ah, how do I put this— _incestuous_."

Soul frowns. "What the fuck does that even mean?"

"It means that, even without counting Command Whistle hookups—which has pretty much tied everyone together at least once—we're all related through sex."

" _What?"_

"Don't worry, Liz is saying it that way to freak you out on purpose," Maka assures him. "It's not like we've all had sex with each other. That's just insane."

"We've all just had sex with people who have had sex with others, linking us all together," Liz says with a cheeky grin. "For example, Ox is obsessed with Kim, and even though Kim and Jackie are currently dating, Kim does dabble with Ox whenever they take a break and sometimes even Patty. Patty and Harvar hook up occasionally when they're both horny and bored, and Harvar has slept with nearly every girl here, including me, while I've slept with most people in Spartoi regardless of gender. Tsu is my main girl though, but she does have a casual fling with Blake, and Blake unfortunately also does my sister sometimes, who also does Jackie when she and Kim are on a break."

Soul balks. "Holy shit." He sneaks a glance at Maka. "What about... I mean, do you—?"

"Oh my god, he's adorable," Patty giggles. "He's already in love with Maka!"

"I—I—what—bah—I am not! _Ohmygod_ , SHUT UP."

Blake is practically howling with laughter. "Bro, that was like the least cool reaction I've ever seen in my entire life."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, cutie, but our precious Maka is far from a virgin." Liz grins. "Harvar drops everything to keep her company whenever she asks and she also hooks up regularly with Kilik. Since Harv has slept with most of the girls here at least once, if you end up fucking Maka, it will give you a one-way pass into our very tangled sex web."

Blake makes a face. "I don't know how I feel about my two best bros having sex with each other."

"Yes, because clearly you determine all facets of my sex life," deadpans Maka.

"It would shift the blame," Liz offers, tongue in cheek. "I mean, you wouldn't be held responsible for your own actions if Blake were behind your sexual decisions."

"Yes, but I'd also probably end up with an STD. And a fish."

"I AM YOUR GOD. BOW BENEATH ME, MORTALS."

Maka shoots Liz a look. Leaning back into Kid, Liz admits, "Yeah, you're probably right."

"PIERRE!" Patty exclaims as Tom Hardy's face comes into perfect alignment with the moustache on the screen. Everyone else groans but accepts their punishment with a drink.

Soul promptly loses fifteen minutes of his life.

When he comes to, he's being helped into a bed he doesn't recognize with one arm around Maka's shoulders and the other around Kid's, which makes him burst out into near hysterical laughter. Soul has lived next door to Xic Mortimer Jr his entire life and this is the first time they've ever made physical contact, let alone shared a conversation that wasn't facilitated by their parents. Soul always thought Kid was a stuffy loner who didn't own casual clothes and had a wicked side-eye, but if his long-term inclusion in Spartoi is any indication, Kid's clearly got more of a social life than Soul.

The thought makes Soul laugh even harder.

"Evans has officially lost it," Kid mutters, eying Soul incredulously as he helps Maka shift Soul's legs onto the mattress.

Maka bites back a smile. "Nah, I think he's just having a good time."

"I doubt he'll feel the same way in the morning." Kid grunts when he finally yanks the end of the blanket from under Soul's foot, then folds the comforter over Soul's starfished frame, looking very displeased with the setup. Fingers twitching, he turns to Maka with a sigh. "You think he'll be able to keep anything down?"

She grimaces. "I guess we'll see."

Kid disappears momentarily and reappears with two glasses of water, one of which he hands to Maka, who thanks him graciously, and the other of which he tries to force down Soul's throat. It takes a bit of struggling and childish groaning on Soul's part— _why_ he's struggling, he doesn't know—but eventually he manages to drink half of it before Kid gives up and sets the rest on the bedside table.

Maka not-so-subtly moves the garbage bin by the bed next to Soul.

"I think Liz and I are staying in the main room with a few of the others," Kid says to Maka ruefully. "You'll let me know if you need anything else?"

"Of course. Thanks so much, Kid. For everything." She kisses him twice, once on each cheek, which manages to wring a small smile from his lips. "See you at breakfast?"

"Mm."

Once Kid is gone, Soul's head flops to the side as he stares at Maka's back while she shrugs off her cardigan and begins removing her jewelry. His eyes are drawn to the fine lines of her shoulders, the delicate angles and bones as they shift with each movement, and he's vividly reminded of when they first met in that pool all those weeks ago. Just like he was that night, under the faint reflection of the moon in Kid's shadowed backyard, he's fascinated by how someone so small can so much definition.

Because she _is_ small. Incredibly so. Soul may not be the strongest guy on the block, but he could probably lift Maka with one hand without even breaking a sweat—yet at the same time, he's watched her fight with Blake all night. They pushed each other, shoved, kicked… At one point, she even chopped him over the head with her bony little fingers and made the muscular, blue-haired mongrel yowl with pain.

At first it made Soul flinch every time Blake played so rough with her, but Maka Albarn is no wilting flower. Everything he dished, she threw right back. Every time he hit her, she growled and retaliated with just as much force. No one else seemed surprised nor concerned that Blake was so rough with the tiny blonde. Even Kilik didn't seem to hold back when he and Maka mock-wrestled on the floor during a dare, and Kilik is a freaking quarterback, all broad shoulders and big arms and toned strength.

Her role in this group confuses Soul. She seems to get along with everyone, like multipurpose glue, and yet she's probably the one who has the least in common with the rest. She's in college, for Christ's sake; the rest of them are still in high school. And yet she never acted like she was better than anyone or smarter than them. It's like she's a normal, rowdy teenager, not a child genius who's set to graduate university at eighteen.

"They like you," Soul mumbles.

Maka's eyes meet his in the vanity mirror as she sets an earring down on the dresser. "The others? I hope so; I like to think they don't just hang out with me because of pity."

"How?"

Thankfully, Maka seems to understand his incoherent stream of thought better than he does. "If you want to hear a cool origin story about the creation of Spartoi, you're not going to find one. We just... fit. I mean, we haven't always been this close, but for the past few years this has been our norm. People like us have to stick together if we want to make it out alive."

"People like us?" he repeats in a slur.

She is quiet. "A little bit crazy. A lot messed up in the head." Before he can even process the desire for an elaboration, Maka places her other earring on the vanity and turns around, her green eyes practically glowing in the dim light peeking through the crack in the door from the hallway. Those eyes slide over from where his long legs are angled awkwardly across the mattress to where his head is half-propped up on a pillow, snow white hair sticking up in all directions.

Then she disappears.

When she reappears several minutes later, she's dressed in a tiny tank top and shorts that make him want to die, her face dewy and soft as if she'd just washed and moisturized it. She jerks her chin at him. "Scoot over."

Even drunk out of his mind, Soul's brain is awkward enough that his eyes widen at the implication of what she's asking. "Whaaaaaa?"

Pressing her lips together to hide a smile, she explains, "None of us trust you to be alone tonight in case you choke on your own vomit in your sleep. I volunteered as your babysitter. Unless you really want me to sleep on the floor—"

"N-no!" Soul blurts out. "Bed! Big! Yes!"

Maka laughs. "God, you're cute. Now be cute and slightly smaller so I can fit on the damn mattress. You're big, but not that big, Evans. Learn to share."

"I'm huge," Soul mumbles as he begs his arm to move so he can make room for her.

It does. Sloppily. Still—yay!

When Maka crawls into the space next to him and dutifully adjusts the covers over her body and his, he feels suddenly wide awake, like her presence breathes electricity into him and ignites every vein, every vessel. Even worse, she doesn't immediately turn her back and dismiss him for sleep like he expects her to. Instead, she lies on her side facing him, her green eyes like curious stars in the darkness.

"Soul? You feeling okay?"

He feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest but somehow manages not to choke on his own breath as he forces a nod.

The corner of her mouth twitches upward in her signature _I see right through you_ smile that he's starting to become very well acquainted with, and suddenly he's struck with how close they are, how he could close the gap between them in a heartbeat and have those teasing lips of hers become _his_ lips, and god does he want to claim them so badly. He's only known her for a few weeks—barely a month—and yet it feels like they've been friends their whole lives. She talks to him daily, makes him feel like an important part of her life rather than a charity case, and drags him out when he's too anxious to go out on his own as if he's the one doing _her_ a favor. She's like a fucking beacon in the darkness, and even in his inebriated state, he's so tangled in her web, he doesn't know which way is up.

"Why?" The question is barely a breath.

Those green-green-green eyes blink at him in the darkness. "Why what?"

"Why're you with me?" Why does she talk to him? Why does she go out of her way to be his friend when he's such an awkward introvert? Why does she stay so close to him when she's known the others so much longer? Why'd she volunteer to take care of him right now? Why stay?

Her expression softens. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You kissed Kid."

"I kissed a lot of people tonight, Soul. So did you."

"That's different," he insists. "That was for a game. This wasn't. You kissed Kid's cheek. _Twice_."

"Wait wait wait," she says. "Out of everything that happened tonight, you're saying you're jealous because I kissed Kid's _cheek_?"

"Twice!" When she blinks three times then bursts into laughter, his face turns nearly as red as his eyes. "Stop laughing at me!"

"Oh, Soul," she nearly croons. "Sweet, sweet Soul. The girls are right: you're absolutely adorable, you know that?"

"Stoooop," he grumbles unhappily, feeling inappropriately emasculated by the repetition of that particular term. Adorable is something you call babies or puppies or even freaking pastel color schemes. It's not what you call an awkward seventeen-year-old boy you want to sleep with.

"Soul," she murmurs again, but this time her voice is warm with pure affection and it makes his heart beat embarrassingly fast considering it's only one syllable. "I shouldn't tease you like this because you're drunk and you don't know what you're saying, but because I'm selfish, I've let you go on and on even though it's not fair to you. Feels like I'm taking advantage of the situation and you deserve so much better than that. So to even things out a little, I'll admit something too: there's a reason they didn't dare us to kiss each other." She exhales slowly. "I asked them not to. Before I picked you up."

His heart drops through his stomach. "You didn't... You don't want to kiss me?"

"Soul, the _only_ person I wanted to kiss tonight was you," she tells him gently. "I just really didn't want our first kiss to be during some stupid game where we both taste like Jack Daniels and barbecue chips."

Face, meet tomato. Clearly Soul's face has surpassed the fruit as the reddest spherical object of all time. "I-I-I like barbecue chips," he stutters out in a very uncool manner.

Luckily, Maka still finds him adorable as she presses a hand over her mouth as if to smile, though it's pointless considering how much her eyes sparkle and how a perfect little dimple appears on her cheek. After a moment of silent giggling, she drops her hand and shifts her face closer, closer, closer—oh god, is she going to kiss him right now, his breath is awful, _he's not ready!_ —but she only presses her lips against the tip of his nose in a soft kiss before pulling back to beam at him with a brightness equivalent to a thousand suns.

"Ask me again when you're sober," she says, and Soul swears he's died and gone straight to heaven.

* * *

The next morning, he experiences hell.

Soul doesn't even make it to sunrise before he's stumbling off the bed and vomiting into the trash can Maka had conveniently left out for him. He continues heaving and heaving until it feels like he's lost everything in his stomach from the past five years along with half of his internal organs—which, ironically, also makes him feel slightly better—and then stays there, curled over the small bin, head pounding, eyes closed, until he feels a small hand on his back.

Like an angel sent to forgive him for his sins, Maka hands him a small cap filled with mouthwash. Then a glass of water and two godly little pills. When he feels ready to move again, she helps him into the bed again, making sure he's tucked in properly, asking if he needs anything, if she can do anything, while her gentle fingers smooth through his hair.

He almost kisses her right then and there.

Instead he falls back to sleep. When he wakes up the next time, sunlight is already filtering through the cracks beneath the curtains, high and bright. It's probably around ten or eleven, not quite noon. For a long moment, he lays there, debating the pros and cons of remaining in this comfortable, unfamiliar bed when he remembers he didn't sleep alone last night.

But when he reaches over for Maka, he realizes she's gone.

Disappointment is not a strong enough word for what he feels.

He finds her in the kitchen nearly fifteen minutes later by following the scent of frying grease and powdered sugar. She's fluttering like a little bird around the stove, humming absently under her breath as she flips pancakes and nudges spitting bacon slices with the ease of someone who has done this often. Judging from the comfortable way she opens cupboards and grabs utensils from drawers, it's clear she's not new to cooking in Kim Diehl's kitchen.

Spread out around the counters, Tsubaki, Kid, and Kilik also move unwaveringly, chopping fruits and vegetables and cracking eggs like a well-oiled machine. When Kilik is done stirring another egg mixture, he passes the bowl to Maka who easily pours it onto a fourth pan then proceeds to flip a perfectly round pancake off another pan as Kilik restarts his task. Tsubaki washes fruits, taps them out, and places the bowls in front of Kid so he can slice them while she cleans the counters of any cores and remains.

It's like watching a choreographed dance.

Maka spots Soul hovering in the entryway before he has a chance to announce his presence, and her pretty, heart-shaped face instantly brightens with pure happiness. "Soul! You're awake."

It should be illegal for someone to be that cheerful in the morning. It should also be illegal for her to be so damn cute. Her hair is slightly damp as if she'd taken a shower and she's wearing different clothes, an off-the-shoulder mint green sweater and tiny jean shorts with giant, embroidered cupcakes sewn onto her ass cheeks.

Kill him now.

Formulating words with a hangover is hard enough without being faced with sweet perfection before he has a chance to replace the alcohol in his veins with caffeine.

"G'morning," he croaks, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. His clothes are wrinkled, his brain has decided to take a freaking vacation, and when he runs a hand through his hair, he cringes to realize that he must look like something from a doomsday movie. "I, uh, didn't know we were making breakfast. You should've woken me up so I could help."

"Nah, don't worry about it," says Jacqueline as she appears with Kim, nearly startling Soul out of his uncomfortable day-old jeans. "Maka, Tsu, Kid, and Kilik are always the first ones up after a party and they insist on cooking hangover food for us. We've tried to help out before, but it's like adding an extra cog to an otherwise perfect machine. It disturbs their rhythm; they work better as a foursome."

"First of all, you _grudgingly_ offered to help _once_ when you looked so hungover you couldn't even stand up right," says Kilik wryly, "so of course we sent you away. Secondly, if anyone wants to help, there _is_ one cog that can be adequately replaced. In fact, I'm begging you. Please."

"No," Kid growls instantly, seeming way too engrossed with his slicing of strawberries to be healthy. "This is my job! I refuse to eat fruit that is not divided symmetrically!"

Seeing Soul's flabbergasted expression, Tsubaki smiles and explains, "Kid is, um, a little particular about how certain things are done. He's better than he used to be, but this is one of the few situations he still refuses to budge on."

"Which wouldn't be a problem if it didn't take him an entire freaking hour to slice fruit," Kilik teases, his dark eyes twinkling.

"Bite me, Rung."

"Is that an invitation?"

"All of you, shut up," groans Blake from the connected dining room, where he sits at the table with his face buried in a concave created by his encircled arms. "It's too fucking early in the morning to be waking your god. You all need to go back to sleep."

"Seventeen years old and you still don't know how to handle your alcohol. I'm disappointed in you, Blake." Kim shakes her head mockingly as she leads Jackie to the table so they can claim seats across from Liz, who is currently filing her nails, and Patty, who looks half-asleep leaning against Harvar's shoulder.

"Fuck off," comes Blake's muffled voice from his arms. "Don't disrespect your god. I will ruin you."

"Well, Baby Evans is doing surprisingly well," comments Liz as she eyes him. "After last night, I bet on you remaining out of commission at least until after noon."

Soul scratches his head as he awkwardly shuffles into a seat at the end of the table, a good distance away from everyone else. "Actually, I was a mess. I was lucky I had Maka to take care of me. She was amazing."

"I bet she was," giggles Patty.

There's a half-beat of confusion before his words reprocess inside his brain. His face turns beet red. "That's not—it wasn't—I didn't mean it like that, I swear!"

The other blond sister hums slyly. "Mmmhmmm. I'm sure."

"Liz!" He instant covers his own ears at his bellow. "Ugh." Guess he's more hungover than he thought. "How the fuck are you guys even functioning right now? I swear, you all drank way more alcohol than I did." Plus, Maka's like ninety pounds soaking wet. There's no way she should be able to hold twice her body weight in liquor and still prance around like a ballerina this early in the morning. He wants to ask her what her secret is, but singling her out when they're still teasing him probably isn't a good idea.

Harvar grins. "This isn't our first rodeo, Evans. Combined, the eleven of us probably only have three functioning livers left. You'll get used to it."

"Speaking of the gang," Liz drawls, her blue eyes sliding across everyone like a prying hand, "we're still missing someone this morning."

Tsubaki appears at the table juggling an impressive amount of bowls—filled with whipped cream, Nutella, and what looks to be three different types of purée—and manages to set them down on the polished wood without even stumbling. "Liz," she chides lightly.

The tall blonde blinks innocently. "What? I'm only being honest. He knows the rules."

It takes Soul a moment to register who's missing. "What's wrong? Is Ox okay?"

"Not for long," Blake says grimly. He lifts his weary gaze to meet Soul's and the seriousness in them is almost startling. "Why do you think I dragged myself out of bed his early instead of sleeping in? You would've gotten a free pass because this is your first time here, but Ox..."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Soul resolves to never sleep in around Spartoi ever again.


	3. death by bikini

**a/n:** _hi i love you okay thank you bye_

* * *

 **chapter three: death by bikini**

 _Maka in a swimsuit will be the death of him._

* * *

"You're heading out?"

Soul pauses on his way to the sink for a brief moment before continuing on his path, rinsing out his bowl then placing it in the dishwasher. He waits until his hands are dried before he turns to face his brother.

Wes is leaning against the doorway, a strangely calm expression on his face. Despite the early hour of the day and no place to be that Soul knows of, his older brother is dressed to the nines like he always is, a crisp white button-up and slacks fitted perfectly to his frame. Both of them share the same lanky height and bizarre coloring, but Wes has always been slightly more filled out than Soul's lazy, introverted ass is, and the four years between them somehow feel much wider—yet at the same time not at all.

They're not close. They never have been. Wes is the prodigal son, an expert violinist with a brilliant future ahead of him and the charm to boot. Soul, on the other hand, can adequately play the piano but is nothing special compared to his brother and everyone knows it.

Wes has always tried to bridge the gap between them, but his kindness and attention to his brother's feelings of inadequacy only feel like pity to Soul, and it makes the resentment impossible to avoid.

Soul tries not to snap at Wes most of the time, knowing his brother is only desperate for Soul to love him and would do anything to make him happy, but there's only so much that can be done on Wes's end. A relationship is a two-way street. Until Soul is ready to reach for that olive branch Wes has been holding out to him since they were kids, the two of them are never going to have a decent relationship.

Soul knows he should be happy for his brother. He knows that. He should be proud of his success, glad for his kindness, and accepting of the help Wes always tries to give him.

He's just not ready yet.

"Yeah," Soul answers finally. "Maka's picking me up in a few minutes."

"You know, usually it's the guy who has to pick up the girl for dates," Wes says casually. "Mom would have an aneurysm if she knew you were letting your girlfriend drive you around."

Soul scowls. "First of all, Maka's not my girlfriend; we've only known each other for a month, since that party Mom and Dad threw at the beginning of the summer vacation. Secondly, this isn't a date. We're meeting the others at Blake's before we head to the beach together."

"Still, you should at least offer to pick her up instead. Open the door for her. It's the chivalrous thing to do."

"She can open her own damn door," Soul mutters. "To be honest, she'd probably make fun of me if I tried."

Wes smiles faintly. "You might be right."

That's it. "Okay, what's your deal with Maka?" Soul demands. "You've been acting weird ever since you found out I'm friends with her. Do you like her or something? Is that why you're being so weird?"

To his surprise, Wes gets really quiet. He frowns at his hands for a moment before raising his eyes to meet Soul's. "Doesn't matter what I think. What matters is how _you_ feel _,_ and I can tell from the way you look at that girl that you think she walks on water."

"What—you—it's not—"

"I'm not teasing you about it," interrupts Wes. "I'm being serious. You like Maka, and I'm glad that you do. She's a great girl, Soul. Kind, smart, funny, selfless. You couldn't choose any better. It's just..."

" _What?_ "

His brothers rubs a tired hand over his face. "Go easy on her, alright? She had a rough time of it in high school and she doesn't deserve to be led around if you're not serious about this."

"Yeah, I know. She told me she was a bit of a nerd then but I don't see how that—"

"Is that what she told you?"

Soul stares at his older brother, not liking the look on his face. "What? Was she lying?"

Wes grimaces. "No, it's not—she wasn't lying, Soul. It's just an oversimplification, is all."

"An oversimplification? What the hell are you talking about?"

They're interrupted by the sound of an obnoxiously lyrical doorbell ringing through the house. If Soul hadn't been staring intently at his brother, he would've missed the strange look that flickers across Wes's face at the sound, and the equally strange look that settles as he says casually, "Guess that's her," and walks right out of the kitchen, leaving Soul nothing to do but follow him.

"Wes!" Maka is beaming when Wes opens the door, and Soul gets a front-row seat to her smile when his brother presses a kiss to her cheek. Soul is really starting to dislike the greeting. "You're still here. I thought you were headed back to Europe?"

"Nah, decided I had enough traveling for a while. Wanted to stay home, network a bit, spend time with my brother before he starts his senior year."

"And I keep stealing him away from you." Maka cringes. "My bad. I've been needy. I'll leave him alone tomorrow so you guys have a brothers' day together."

Soul jolts to attention. "What? No! You don't need to do that!"

She gives him a chiding look. "Your brother cancelled a tour so he could spend time with you. Don't be mean."

"It's fine," Wes chuckles. "Don't abandon my brother for my sake. He likes you a hell of a lot more than he likes me anyway."

"Oh, I doubt that's true."

 _But it is_. From the meaningful look Wes exchanges with him, Soul knows his brother is aware of what he's thinking. It makes him feeling impossibly worse about the situation yet somehow not remorseful in the slightest.

He won't apologize for choosing to spend his free time this summer with Maka, not when every time he and Wes have done things together, it's resulted in some sort of colossal fuck-up. She's the only person he ever feels remotely comfortable around. Being with Wes just makes him feel wholly inadequate, which doesn't help their relationship at all. If anything, the more time they spend together, the worse it gets.

Especially now.

"Actually," Wes says, "if you're not doing anything near the end of the summer, do you want to go to a concert with us? I was given free passes through my company and I was going to ask Soul to come with me, but I have a few extra tickets."

Soul chokes on air as Maka's face brightens. "Really? I'd love that!" She pauses slightly. "Are you sure though? I don't want to intrude on any brotherly bonding time, especially if—"

"Don't be silly, Maka. I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't want you there." The corner of his mouth twitches. "Besides, maybe now that you're coming, Soul won't make up some excuse to ditch me last minute."

Much to their surprise, Maka merely shakes her head. "That's not Soul's fault. Some days it's just harder than others to work up the nerve to face other people, especially in public settings. I get it; I'm still the same way sometimes, even though I've gotten a lot better since the height of my anxiety." She gives Soul a smile that makes his chest warm far past healthy levels. "He's actually a lot better than I was before. I'm grateful every time he's sweet enough to indulge me by keeping me company. He doesn't owe me anything, but he'll drag himself out of bed for my sake anyway."

Soul can only stare at her in shock.

How is it they've only known each other a month and she already knows him that well? No one has ever— _ever_ —spoken about his tendency to bail on plans last minute as anything other than a nuisance. They call him a flake, unreliable, untrustworthy. His parents still berate him constantly every time his anxiety gets in the way of an appearance at a stupid party or a performance in front of crowds that make him want to hide in a corner and die. Even Blake complains and groans whenever Soul chooses solitude over his company. After all, it's how he's gone this long without meeting Spartoi in the first place.

But not only does Maka show she understands by not berating him for it, but she also defends him in front of Wes. Perfect, understanding Wes who no one ever disagrees with.

Soul has wanted to kiss Maka countless times since he first met her, but this... this clearly takes the cake.

Wes seems just as taken aback as Soul is, but he recovers much quicker, his expression becoming very, very soft. "You're right. I know I'm a little too hard on him sometimes. I know it's not his fault."

"It's not your fault either, Wes," she says gently. "You do your best. Besides, I've met your parents. Trust me when I say how hard it can be to function normally under that level of overbearingness."

"Spirit is still overcompensating by smothering you?"

"He barged into my bedroom with a baseball bat the other day because he had a dream that I was talking to a boy," she deadpans. "A _dream_."

Wes bursts out laughing before he can stop himself, then laughs even harder when she smacks his arm.

"It's not funny, Wes! I was trying to sleep!"

"Let me guess: you jolted out of bed and laid him out on his ass on instinct." His grin widens when she pouts adorably but doesn't answer. "That's what I thought. You're a little menace, aren't you?"

"I'm cute," she huffs stubbornly.

"You're capable of beating up a man more than twice your size."

"Still cute!"

"Yeah, yeah, she's adorable, we get it," Soul grumbles unhappily. "Can you be all nauseatingly charming and Wes-like later? Everyone is supposed to meet at Blake's soon and I don't want to have to explain that we're late because my big brother likes to hit on my friends."

"To be fair, Maka was _my_ friend first." When Soul growls like a gremlin fed after midnight, Wes flashes a smile that manages to be both innocent and conniving all in one. Soul inwardly contemplates the pros and cons of putting a hit on his brother.

"We'll figure out the details for the concert later?" Maka asks hopefully.

Wes softens. "I'd like that." Then, because life hates Soul, his brother adds, "Hopefully by then my little brother will find his chill and stop acting like an old man who hasn't gotten his rocks off since nineteen-fifty-two."

" _Wes!_ "

"I've been trying to pull the stick from his butt for weeks now," Maka agrees, "but for some reason he still walks around like he has a permanent cramp in his perky little ass cheeks."

"MAKA!"

"Must've left a splinter," Wes says solemnly.

"It wasn't ready."

"We pushed too soon."

Maka nods like she's commemorating a fallen comrade. "Now he'll be backed up for eternity."

"OH MY GOD."

Five minutes later and way too many jokes at the expense of their own personal dartboard to count, Maka and Soul climb into her car with the latter pouting like a child who got the wrong McDonald's toy in his Happy Meal.

She keeps sneaking glances at him as they pull out of his driveway on the way to Blake's, but he refuses to meet her eyes and maintains his crossed arms like a life vest off a sinking ship. With each passing second, he feels more and more like a spoiled brat and less and less inclined to fold for the sake of his stupid, stubborn pride.

"Soul?"

"…What?" he grumbles moodily.

"You really do have a cute butt."

* * *

He should've stayed home.

When Soul agreed to go with Spartoi to Venice today (read: was blackmailed by Blake into coming), somehow he didn't fully register the fact that Maka would be wearing a swimsuit. Even though they live in LA, it's been years since Soul has willingly dragged his introverted ass to a beach—much less one as crowded as _Venice_ Beach—and the thought of cute crushes in cute bikinis had completely slipped his mind.

But he definitely notices now.

He's used to seeing her hang out at his place in tiny skirts and slinky tops while they play video games ("Shorts are uncomfortable and always ride up in painful ways, Soul. Skirts are so much better!"); she wore the cutest summer dress when they went to the county fair with Blake; and whenever they voice chat while playing League, he always tries to image her wearing a fluffy onesie that obscures her entire frame so he doesn't become the lame guy who gets a boner every time he so much as hears her voice.

Then of course there's the time when he saw her breasts before he even knew her name and secured his bumbling dork reputation in her presence that the others still tease him for to this day.

And yet, when he sees Maka wearing this avocado green bikini that sits high on her hips and ties with a tiny bow between the first pair of breasts he's seen since he was an infant, his lungs almost physically stop working. It takes everything he has to remember that passing out on dry ground in the middle of a beach would redefine the meaning of _uncool_.

Watching as Tsubaki smooths sunscreen all over Maka's lean back while she slathers her arms and impossibly long legs… Well, that certainly doesn't help either.

"Breathe, Soul. You need to breathe," Patty giggles by his side. Unfortunately, he can't tear his gaze away from Maka as she finishes returning the favor to Tsubaki by applying sunscreen on the dark-haired girl's back in turn. Both of their lips are clearly moving. At one point, Tsubaki blushes and makes an adamant gesture with her hands, causing Maka to throw her head back and laugh.

Soul's chest bursts.

"He's not very subtle, is he," he hears Harvar comment amusedly, and Ox snickers in response.

"Poor kid doesn't know how to manage his face. It'd almost be cute if it weren't so sad."

"Ox, I don't think you're in any place to judge Soul considering you salivate every time Kim so much as looks your way."

"S-shut up, Liz! I do not!"

"Case in point." Soul feels a hand on his arm and turns to see Liz watching him with a wry expression on her face. "Close your mouth, Evans. There's only so much I can say in your defense when you're digging your own grave like this."

Snapping his jaw shut, he averts his gaze and prays to the lord they're all stupid enough to believe in that his red face is because of the heat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

God tests him when Maka catches him staring and gives him a bright smile that makes up for every bad day he's ever had in his entire life.

God tests him even more when she ends her conversation with Tsubaki and walks over to him, dropping down to a crouch in front of the beach mat he has taken sanctuary on, her brilliant green eyes levelling with his.

"Aren't you going to change, Soul? Where's your bathing suit?"

 _You can do this_ , he tells himself. _Remain cool. Do not freak out. Do not pass Go. Cool, damn it! Like a fucking cucumber—wait, shit, not a cucumber! That looks too much like a dick. Maybe an ice cube? Fuck, Maka's skin looks so warm and soft right now. Would an ice cube melt quickly against her skin as I dragged it across or would she simply gasp at the chill? Shit—Soul, focus! No thinking about her breasts or cucumber dicks or stupid B-movie sex scenes... Do you fucking want to spring a boner in front of her right now? You IDIOT!_

"—oul? Are you okay? Soul!"

He blinks out of his daze when he realizes Maka is waving her hand in front of his face and all their so-called friends are failing at hiding their snickers behind him. He might as well have been set on fire for how hot his face is. "S-sorry, did you say something?"

At his back, Blake is practically howling with laughter and it takes everything inside Soul's dignity to keep from punching the asshole out.

Thankfully, Maka is an angel and decides to spare him as she hides a smile and says simply, "I was just wondering if you were going to change so you could come swimming with me."

He grimaces. "You go on ahead. I'll join you a little later." He's a little too worked up right now to move in close quarters with a wet Maka wearing that swimsuit in this heat. He'd probably drown, and death by uncontrollable boner isn't exactly the way he wants to go.

Seriously, how do normal people survive at the beach with pretty, too-sweet crushes wearing teeny tiny bathing suits like Maka? Is there some sort of secret he's not in on?

Though clearly disappointed—which he tries not to read too much into—Maka nods and straightens up, saying, "I'll hold you to it!" before turning to run off towards Tsubaki with Kim and Jackie.

"You're an idiot," Liz tells him with a shake of her head as she follows the others.

Most of Spartoi ends up joining the girls in the water. Soul doesn't blame them—but at the same time, he's a little relieved to be left alone to guard their stuff under a beach umbrella, watching from a safe distance as Maka and the girls scream in the water when Blake makes a big entrance as per usual.

That is, until he realizes he isn't alone.

Here's the thing. As crazy as they are, Soul likes Blake and Maka's friends. Tsubaki is probably the gentlest human being in the universe, a pseudo-maternal figure for Spartoi. Patty is eccentric but always kind, and her older sister may make a game out of teasing Soul for his crush on Maka but Liz has made it clear on several occasions that she does have his back. Ox may be a bit of a dick but he means well and Harvar is probably one of the most laid-back people he's ever met. Though Kim's a bit hard around the edges, she's considerably softer around Jacqueline, and Kid—well, Kid is Kid. For all his faults, he did help haul Soul into a safe bed at Kim's party and only complained once.

But then there's Kilik Rung.

The thing is, Kilik is an all-around Good Guy. He's cool, easygoing, and seems to be the only person in all of Spartoi who can rally with every single one of the others without getting worked up. (Maka fails spectacularly whenever Blake is involved, and Blake is just an explosion on his own.) Ever since Soul met the guy, he's been nothing but friendly and generous, not the least bit unwelcoming, which has helped a lot with Soul's utter social ineptitude.

Unfortunately, Soul remembers what Liz had explained at Kim's party about the dark-skinned boy often taking residence in Maka's bed. Ever since then, Soul can't help but inspect every interaction between the two of them, even when it's something as small as Kilik handing her a can of pop without her asking for it or Maka laughing at his jokes despite the fact that everyone else is, too.

He knows he has no right to feel jealous. After all, he's only known Maka for just over a month, she's in no way his girlfriend, and her past shouldn't matter to him anyway.

And yet.

Forcing himself not to tense, Soul leans palm on his hands and casually asks, "You're not going to join the others?"

"Nah, doesn't seem right to leave you to watch all our stuff on your own." Kilik slides him a glance. "Plus, I figured the two of us should probably clear the air so you stop feeling the need to avoid my eyes every time we cross paths—which, if you haven't figured out yet, will be quite often now that you've joined Spartoi."

Busted. "I don't know what you're talking about," Soul lies.

True to form, Kilik only grins, not directly calling him out on it but acknowledging his awkwardness all the same. "You can ask me, you know. I don't bite and I always tell the truth, no matter what it is."

Inwardly, Soul grimaces. Watches the small shapes of his new friends as they flit across the waterline. Even from this distance, he can tell Blake is being overbearing and the girls are threatening to drown his ass if he splashes them one more time. That's how well he's starting to know their personalities after only a few weeks.

What's keeping him from taking Kilik up on his offer? Jealousy, because Kilik's seen Maka naked for more than a split second in Kid's backyard before she jumps in the pool? Or fear, because he's scared that Maka and Kilik are still sleeping together and Soul doesn't want to face the possibility of knowing she's off-limits?

Eventually he works up the nerve to open his mouth, but what comes out isn't the question either of them expect: "Do you love her?"

Kilik startles, clearly taken aback. He looks down at the sand beneath his fingers, raking his hand though the fine grands for a moment before he says quietly, "I do love her, but I'm not sure if it's in the way you mean. You know that Maka, Blake, and I grew up together, right?"

Soul nods. That's never been a secret. While all eleven of them are pretty close now, Maka, Blake, and Kilik are the only ones who've known each other since they were children. They'd been thrown together with the same nannies and sitters by their parents and eventually grew to be quite close. They didn't meet most of the others until middle school, and Soul hadn't been graced with Blake's presence until their freshman year of high school.

"I've always been a little jealous of Blake and Maka's relationship," Kilik admits. "I know, I know. It may not seem like they're close with how much they rag on each other, but they are. Incredibly so. Sure, they bicker over everything and fight like cats and dogs, but they care deeply about each other and would burn the entire world to the ground if the other got hurt. Even though it was the three of us growing up, they just… _clicked_ in a way that was harder for me. For a long time, I felt like I was just there. A third-wheel to their two-person world-ruling brigade.

"As we got older," he continues wistfully, "Maka seemed to realize that I was pulling away and confronted me about it. Said that I was being ridiculous. Said she and Blake may have been more outspoken and headstrong, but I was just as much a part of their team as they were and they'd be lost if I left. That helped a lot with my insecurities, as I'm sure you know. Maka has a way of making people feel like they're important even when they're at their absolute lowest."

Soul grimaces at the weight that tightens within his chest.

"But that's the thing," Kilik says. "I don't remember a time when the two of them weren't a huge part of my life, Maka especially. We've never had a chance to be more than just friends so I've never tried to quantify my feelings in any other way. I'm content with the way things are. She's one of my favorite people in the world and I wouldn't change that for anything."

Blunt and honest, just as he'd promised. Doesn't mean it doesn't still sting. "But if you had the chance to be with her, _really_ be with her… you'd take it?"

A pause. "Wouldn't you?"

Fair point. "Liz said—" Soul breaks off, clenches his fists, and starts again. "Liz said you and Maka slept together often. Did she mean it or was she exaggerating?"

"If you're asking for a number, I can't give that to you. We've had this arrangement since we were fifteen. I've never kept track."

Which means it's happened a lot. Soul tries not to tense. "Were you her first?"

Kilik's shoulders stiffen noticeably, taut muscles under dark skin coiling like a tightened wire about to snap. "No."

"She was yours though," Soul guesses knowingly.

Another pause. "Yes."

"Do you still…?"

"Not since she met you," Kilik answers honestly. When Soul glances over, the quarterback is gazing out at the water like Soul had been, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out who he's staring at. "I've always let Maka instigate things between us because I've been scared to overstep my bounds, but I knew from the moment she met you that she wouldn't be calling me anymore. Not like that."

"Why?" Soul blurts out before he can consider the possibility that what he's asking is insensitive, especially since Kilik basically just admitted he'd love Maka if she let him. He flinches. "Shit, I didn't mean… You don't have to—"

"It's fine," Kilik says with a small smile. "I know you're not a malicious person, and I'm the one who opened this door anyway. It's just a little hard to explain." He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, as if trying to gather his thoughts. "You've met her father, right?"

"Yeah." Unfortunately.

"Spirit loves her so much, but he's… not the best parent, and he definitely isn't the best role model. Because of that, she's always had a skewed sense of sex and relationships. Emotions, though," Kilik continues, trailing off as he opens his eyes. "Maka isn't a hurtful person. She's far from it; you need to know that. But she does have trouble dealing with her emotions and that makes it hard for people who care for her sometimes, because how can you tell how she really feels about you if she's nice and fun and flirty to everyone? How can you know when she's sad or hurt when she smiles through everything, no matter how much pain she's in? How can you love her when she won't let you see her with her guard down?"

Everything Kilik is saying hits hard with Soul—because he knows he's right and that makes it incredibly difficult to swallow.

Maka is a sunshine girl; anyone who meets her sees that. And yet these sunshine girls are usually the ones who hurt the most because they'll cut off an arm and a leg to help others and they'll do it with a smile. Selfless in that way, and yet selfish because she will more than likely push others away before she lets them see her pain.

If she hadn't told Wes about her own struggles with anxiety to defend him, Soul never would've imagined she'd felt that way before, too—and he has a feeling she never would've told him herself if it hadn't come up then. She still hasn't, in a way. Despite her reveal, they haven't acknowledged it since.

"You get it then?" Kilik says quietly, watching as the realizations settle upon Soul's face. "Maka is amazing with a lot of things but dealing with her emotions isn't one of them. It's why she doesn't date or lead people on who expect more than she can give them. And she definitely isn't the kind of girl who can ever sleep with a guy if she thinks she has feelings for someone else."

His breath stutters slightly. "You think she likes me?"

"I think she doesn't know what she feels, but I also think if she let herself feel it, you could end up being really important to her. I think, maybe, you already are."

"I'm sorry." Soul hadn't realized it until this moment, until Kilik said those last three words, but he knows now just how much Kilik hadn't been doing this for him like he'd originally thought—to be nice or open or clear the air or whatever he'd insinuated at first.

No, Kilik Rung had done this for _Maka_. Because despite what he said earlier, he loves her, wholly, deeply, completely—so thoroughly that he's resigned himself to discuss his sex life with the guy he thinks his girl might fall for. To protect her. To warn the other guy to keep her safe.

Apparently Soul doesn't have a monopoly on denial.

Kilik smiles sadly, and being on a sunny beach surrounded by laughter and squeals and fun makes it hurt that much more. "You're a good guy, Evans. Blake has said as much, and Maka certainly wouldn't have chosen you if it weren't true. Just… know that we're protective of her. You may be a good guy, but it doesn't mean we won't beat your ass if you ever fucking hurt her."

The threat comes so out of nowhere that Soul can't help but burst out laughing. "You're alright, Rung." He extends his fist, and Kilik cracks a grin as he bumps it with his own.

"We're cool then?"

"Yeah," Soul says, and is surprised to find that he means it. "We're cool."

* * *

Soul never thought it was possible to get kicked off a beach, but somehow Blake almost manages to make it happen—twice!—and the only person who is moderately pleased is Liz, but only because she thinks the cop who warned them is hot.

Kid, however, is decidedly _not_ pleased.

"We go to an all-girls school," Liz is explaining when her non-boyfriend gives her the silent treatment as he flips burgers and kabobs on their portable barbecue for lunch. "It's not my fault that we're hard-pressed for male eye-candy. Jackie is lucky she only has eyes for the ladies and Tsu just has the worst taste in men anyway—"

"Hey!" Tsubaki and Blake protest in unison.

"—but I have more refined tastes. I like to appreciate fine art when it's presented to me." When Kid continues to ignore her, Liz rolls her eyes then proceeds to dramatically cup her hand as she whispers something into his ear.

Kid turns a shade of red that rivals the color Soul had been when Maka climbed on his shoulders for a game of Chicken Fight earlier. The dark-haired male proceeds to cough violently before saying to Liz, very shyly, "Do you want your kabobs light or extra grilled?"

Even Soul can't help but snicker.

"I didn't know the five of you went to an all-girls school," Soul comments later when they're all settled around two picnic tables they've pushed together. "I thought you guys just went to another prep school in the area besides Shibusen."

"Nope," Jackie chirps, popping the 'p.' "Have you met our parents? They're strict as hell. The only reasons they let us hang out around these guys are because they think Kilik and Harvar are first-class gentlemen, we'd never touch weirdos like Ox and Blake with a ten-foot pole, and Kid is asexual."

"Ironic considering Harvar's the biggest manslut of them all and Kid apparently likes it very kinky," says Kim.

Kid whips his head towards his non-girlfriend in horrified accusation. "LIZ!"

"Aw, don't worry, babe," she croons, "I promise I only tell them the good things."

"The only person they're moderately correct about is Kilik," adds Kim, "though we might think differently if he and Maka stopped being prudes and disclosed more details about their sex life."

Maka winks. "Sorry, Kim, I don't fuck and tell."

"And apparently I'm a gentleman, though that's certainly news to me." Kilik raises his brows at Maka. "What do you say, sweetheart? Think I earned it?"

"Eh," she hums with a noncommittal shrug. "I prefer it when you're _not_ being gentle, to be honest." She bursts out laughing when all their friends explode in a flurry of very non-PG comments, dissuading each one with a coy zipper mimed across her lips.

If this exchange had happened before his enlightening conversation with Kilik, Soul might've died on the spot from spontaneous ruin and heartbreak. Now, though—well, it still fucking hurts like hell, if he's being honest, because thinking about any other guy putting their hands on her makes him want to rip out his stomach, but at least he understands her a little better and acknowledges that this kind of teasing is just her humor.

She doesn't say these things to hurt him. It's just her defense mechanism—her fun, flirty norm. Kilik said he thinks that Maka may have feelings for Soul, and while that may or may not be true, what he needs to be okay with is that it may take her some time to come to terms with how to deal with that.

And that's more than alright with Soul. As long as she's here. As long as he gets to spend time with her at all.

"What about you, Ox, and Harvar?" Soul asks Kilik, extending a question as his version of an olive branch. "You guys don't go to Shibusen either, but I know you play ball. Are you at all all-boys school?"

Kilik shares a secret grin. "Nah, the three of us go to a public school."

"A _public_ school?" Soul blubbers. "Are you serious? Your parents let that happen?"

Harvar laughs at the look of utter astonishment on Soul's face. "The three of us wanted to play football competitively and private school teams are shit. Filled with pretty boys who are far too scared to get their hands dirty to rut properly. When Kilik earned a place on the public school's team and the coach's promises began filling his dad's ears, it wasn't hard to convince the rest of our parents to let us avoid prep."

"It's so much easier for you boys," Liz complains. "The guys are ten times hotter at public schools, but our father would sooner chain me and Patty in the basement than let us attend an institution in the public sector."

"Don't worry, Liz, you're not missing anything at coed schools," Maka promises. "Totally overrated. Would've saved me a lot of problems if I'd gone to an all-girls school like you."

Liz throws an accusing finger at her. "You don't get to talk to me right now, Albarn. You went to school with Wes freaking Evans. They had the hottest class at Shibusen ever! Plus, the college boys you bring home… ugh, I hate you."

Kid snaps the spatula in his hand, stares at it for a moment, then tosses it aside before grabbing another one and proceeding to flip burgers as if nothing happened.

"Please don't tell me you find my brother hot." Soul gags dramatically to hide the fact that he's wounded by the mention of Maka sleeping with multiple college boys.

He knows what university settings are like nowadays—booze, sex, and parties galore—but his mind refuses to associate Maka with those things even though she's gotten him drunk on more than one occasion. To him, she's an angel sent from heaven, and he really doesn't want those daydreams to be replaced by nightmares of other guys spending time between her long, perfect legs.

Harvar grins at him. "Considering you and your brother look a lot alike, I feel like you're insulting yourself."

Soul's frown deepens. "How do you know my brother?"

"Dude, everyone knows your brother," Blake says, rolling his eyes. "He's all my mom fucking talks about. Perfect Wes with his perfect music career and perfect manners. If she tells me to be more like Wes one more time, I may off him myself."

"Wes is in town," Maka offers cheekily, and a loud chorus of groans instantly takes over half the table.

"Why the fuck would you say that?" Blake whines. "Don't you realize what you've started?"

But the damage is done. The girls are already exploding with excitement, going on about how they can't believe Wes Evans is back, will he come to one of their parties, will he play for them, is he as handsome and charming in person as he is in every single one of his stories?

Then they remember that Wes Evans' little brother is sitting with them and they immediately start interrogating him about the prodigal violinist. With a groan, Soul slinks into his seat away from the prying questions and shoots Maka a betrayed look across the table, to which she only responds with an innocent smile and a mouthed apology they know she doesn't mean.

He knows she probably didn't mean to irritate him with the girls' unleashed line of questioning—probably didn't even realize what she was doing—but when he catches the small frown on Kilik's face as the broad man watches Maka intently, Soul can't help but wonder if there's more he's missing than he realizes.

* * *

Soul and Maka make a break for it when the others are distracted.

All twelve of them are strolling down Venice's infamous boardwalk, buying cotton candy and ice cream and useless trinkets they'll never use again while watching some of the street performers as they pass. Apparently the girls are familiar with one of the shirtless fire breathers, and they drag the guys into the surrounding crowd so they can openly ogle and swoon at his lack of dress.

Blake Barrett does not appreciate when someone steals his spotlight.

Just as the blue-haired idiot issues a boisterous challenge to the fire breather that has the rest of Spartoi groaning with embarrassment and exasperation—"They're going to kick us off the beach and we'll never be able to show our faces here again!" Liz whines—Maka snatches Soul's hand and mimes a finger over her mouth, giggling silently as she leads him away from the crowd.

That's how they end up here: holding hands as they stroll down the boardwalk, with Maka's bright eyes lighting up at ridiculous items being sold in some of the shops and her lips parting with awe at the different buskers that are putting on shows all down the way.

"You're like a puppy," Soul mumbles affectionately, even though he's well aware that he's the one following her around like a loyal mutt on a leash.

She only beams.

"Shouldn't we go back to the others soon?" He doesn't want to, of course, because being alone with Maka as she pays attention to him and only him is always the best part of his day.

Even under the rapidly setting sun, he can see the faint pink dusting over her cheekbones. "I—not yet. I just want to walk around with you a little more. Is that okay?"

How does he say _hell fucking yeah_ without thoroughly embarrassing himself and surrendering every ounce of cool he's never had? "S-sure."

Nailed it.

Wandering around with Maka is very different from wandering around with the entirety of Spartoi. For one thing, there isn't a rowdy blue-haired mongrel attracting attention everywhere they go with his loud outbursts and tendency for dramatic flairs. They don't have to stop at every stall so Kid can straighten the signs and displays before being dragged away by Liz, and they don't have to watch as Ox attempts to buy Kim's affections with a collection of overpriced souvenirs that she merely turns her nose up at.

But Maka is no less lively without the others around. With her damp hair falling in waves down her back and her summer skirt flowing in a way that reveals way too much of her long, creamy thighs, she looks more like a festival spirit than an actual girl, all bright eyes and wondrous smiles and gasping noises of amazement whenever she sees something that catches her eye. They live barely twenty minutes away from this beach and she's acting like this is her first time here. Like she's a child going to Disneyland for the first time.

Soul finds it ridiculously adorable.

He finds _her_ ridiculously adorable.

"What?" she asks when she catches him staring for the nth time. She has a half-eaten churro in one hand and his palm in the other, and as she lowers the sugary treat from her lips while tilting her head curiously to the side, Soul thinks she's the prettiest thing he's ever fucking seen.

"N-nothing."

But her brows pull together, seeing through his ruse. "Soul? Are you tired? I know it's been a long day; we can head back if you're beat."

"No!" he blurts out. "It's not—I didn't—that isn't what—"

And then, in a brief moment of what must either be courage or insanity, he cups her cheek in his hand and presses his lips to the space between her brows as if to smooth the frown that has grown there. When he pulls back, face eternally crimson, he feels warm to realize that she's just as red. Her pink, sugary lips are parted with surprise.

"I'm good," he manages to say without choking. "I—I promise. I'm really good."

Her shy smile is everything, and in that moment, he vows that he'll do anything and everything just to see it again.

"KYAAAAA!" a loud voice squeals nearby. "MAKA-CHAN! Maka-chan, is that you?!"

Soul watches as Maka's eyes widen significantly before she turns just in time to be nearly tackled to the ground by a tall, dark-haired woman wearing a tiny black dress and what appears to be cat ears.

"Maka-chan! It _is_ you!" The woman practically smothers the tiny blonde with hugs by shoving her face directly between her boobs. "Oh, Bu-tan is so happy to see you! My little kitten is all grown up! It's been too long!"

"Blair, stop," Maka laughs as she shoves playfully away from the woman's grasp, wincing away from her breasts so she's able to breathe. "It's barely been a month. You're acting like I've abandoned you for years."

The woman named Blair pouts like she's five years old instead of in her twenties. Now that she's no longer smothering Maka, Soul can tell that her hair is actually a dark purple color instead of black and she's wearing these bright yellow contacts that make her eyes almost as big and pouty as Maka's. "It feels like it! You know Bu-tan doesn't like to go very long without seeing her kitten. It makes Bu-tan sad. _Very_ sad!"

"Yes, yes, I'm very sorry. I promise I won't let it happen again." Though the way Maka pets the woman's head could be considered condescending, there's a fondness in her expression that makes it clear that this crazy woman is somehow important to Maka. That she's used to this behavior and accepts it with an open heart.

"Um," says Soul.

Maka grins at the dumbfounded look on his face. "Soul, this is Blair. My mom used to babysit her when they were younger, and eventually she became like a pseudo big sister for me when I was born. Like an unofficial godmother. She's always been really close, even after my parents got divorced."

"It's only unofficial because Kitten's mama is mean to Bu-tan now! So mean!"

"Blair, you slept with my dad."

"Only four times," the cat woman insists. "And only after they split up!" There's a brief pause, then, sheepishly, "Okay, maybe a couple times before they broke up, too."

Surprisingly, when Maka rolls her eyes, there's no malice or discomfort in her gaze, only good-natured amusement. "Blair, this is Soul. He goes to school with Blake and has just been initiated into Spartoi this summer, so be nice. He's a shy one."

"Hey!" Soul protests indignantly. "I am _not_ sh—sssshit shit shit!" He squeaks out a very uncool sound when the Blair woman throws herself at him next, trying to smother him with her breasts the way she had to Maka. He ducks and yelps and pushes, but for a girl wearing five-inch heels, she is _strong_. And persistent.

"Kyaaa, he's so cute, Maka-chan! Look at his hair! And his _eyes_ —oh my goodness, are those real? Bu-tan is so jealous!"

"Hey hey hey, that's so not cool! Maka, please! HELP!"

After Blair is finally wrangled away from Soul by an amused Maka, the cat woman drapes her arms dejectedly over Maka's shoulders from behind like a little girl clutching her teddy bear. Maka sighs but doesn't try to detangle herself as Blair buries her face in Maka's hair, and Soul shudders at the blonde's patience. He doesn't know how she does it. That woman is _dangerous_.

"Blair is a professional cosplayer," Maka explains, gesturing to the woman's ridiculously showy get-up. "Mostly for cat-girl characters. You might've heard of her?" When Soul stares at her blankly, she bites back a smile and adds, "She's really big in Japan."

That earns her a dreamy sigh. "Bu-tan would love to move to Japan permanently, but only if Maka-chan moves with her. Bu-tan can't imagine never seeing her little kitten for months at a time—that would be worse than torture!"

Maka's expression softens and she reaches up to gently stroke the woman's head on her shoulder. "I'd miss you too, Blair."

The woman purrs happily, tightening her grip around Maka's slim shoulders and burying her face deeper into her hair. "Bu-tan didn't know that Kitten had a boyfriend though—you _never_ date anyone, ever! Not even Kilik-kun, and Kilik-kun has loved Kitten forever!" Seemingly oblivious to both Soul and Maka's flinch, Blair continues, "Is Soul-boy nice to you? Does he treat you well? Is he good in bed? You have to promise Bu-tan that you'll always be safe and wear condoms, even if he says he's clean. Boys will always try to take advantage of sweet girls like Kitten and even though Bu-tan wants grandbabies, she knows Kitten wants to finish school first and become a fancy kid doctor."

While Soul chokes on air, Maka assures her patiently, "Don't worry, Blair, I promise Soul treats me very, very well."

He dies. Just a little.

It takes another twenty minutes of coddling and reassurances before Blair lets them go on their way, and Soul barely waits until they're around several stalls away when he grips Maka's hand and hisses, "You're evil, you know that? Pure. Adorable. Evil."

Maka bursts out laughing. "Why is it that every time you try to accuse me of something, you always manage to weave in a compliment too?"

"I can't help it," he grumbles unhappily. "Trust me, if I could stop it, I would. It's so uncool."

"Well, _I_ think it's _very_ cool." Her cheeks are slightly pink as they float along the edges of the crowd, hands still interlaced, footsteps in sync. "You're sweet, Soul. I know we tease you a lot—I know _I_ tease you a lot—but it's only because I love the way you are and never want you to change. So please don't."

He blushes. Coughs. "Don't tell me what to do, Albarn. You're not my master."

She hums thoughtfully. "You _would_ make a very cute cat-boy…"

"Don't even think about it."

"I'm sure Blair has some male cosplay materials in your size—"

"MAKA ALBARN, DON'T YOU DARE."

She teases him a little more, which results in him attacking her with tickling hands and demands until she laughs so hard she cries. She tries to wrestle away from him while squealing, but apparently she doesn't try very hard because he manages to keep his hands on her despite the fact that she could easily throw him on his ass on a normal day.

Eventually they settle down on a bench next to a grilled corn stand, where Maka tries to buy him a cob in apology but he practically throws her wallet in the ocean, because fucking hell if he ever lets her pay for anything while they're on a quasi-date like this.

And when they maybe, possibly, _actually_ date in the future? Good luck to her then, because he plans to spoil her _rotten_.

They both nibble on their corn in comfortable silence, watching as a small band of five guys on percussion instruments wow the crowd with their music. Soul sneaks several glances over at Maka, who looks like an angel under the low street lights of the growing dark, before he works up the courage to speak.

"I have a question." When she glances over at him curiously, lowering her cob as she licks her lips clean, Soul says, "Blair—is she more of a mother figure or sister figure? I couldn't tell."

Letting out a small laugh, Maka abandons her corn completely and shifts in her seat. "Would it be weird to say a little bit of both? She's not old enough to be my mom but that doesn't stop her from trying. I've never… I mean, I've never really had either. Blair knew that since she was always around when I was a kid, so she took it upon herself to fill in the gaps as much as she possibly could with love and affection. I'll admit there were times when I didn't appreciate it as much as I could have because she can be a lot to handle, but I know she loves me. I love her, too. Blair is family—even if my mom doesn't like that she is."

"You never really talk about your mom." Soul has met her father twice in the past few weeks, both of which the red-haired man had wailed and yelled like Soul was some sort of ragged delinquent who was out to contaminate his daughter—but he's never met her mother.

Maka is quiet as she watches the passing crowd between their bench and the circle around the performers. Her green eyes are unreadable yet soft. "My mom is… complicated. As a kid, I idolized her. I still do. She's this amazing business woman who built her own international corporation from scratch and travels the world on a daily basis to meet with people who'd give their left foot to speak with her. How can I not think she's amazing? But to her, work always trumped family, and that meant she was never around when I was growing up. Was never there for birthdays or track meets, was never there for school debates or other holidays."

"Christmas?" At Maka's sad smile, Soul gasps. " _No!_ "

She merely shrugs. "Her job meant everything to her. She didn't inherit her fortune like my father did. She built her own empire to cater to the masses, and while that makes her amazing, it also makes her insanely driven and determined to accelerate what she's got. It makes sense that she'd do anything to maintain her success."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

Her head tilts to the cloudy stars. "Three years ago—the summer before I started college. Ever since she divorced my dad, she hasn't had any reason to drop in regularly anymore."

"She has _you_ ," he all but snarls. "You're her _daughter_. How could she—how could she not—?"

"She lives a busy lifestyle. I can't fault her for that." There's a small pause. "She's mad that I want to be a doctor, you know. She hates that I'm not pursuing a business career like she did. She believes e-commerce is the future and thinks I'm stupid for not monopolizing on that when I know better."

" _Maka_." Soul can barely speak, he's so horrified. "Your mom can't be disappointed in your for wanting to save lives. That's—that's so backwards, I can't even think about it!"

"Well, technically I don't want to be a hands-on doctor like a surgeon or physician," she admits. "I want to work in child psych. That's not really as impressive."

"Maka!" He can't believe what he's hearing. "You graduated high school at fourteen. Are going to graduate college at eighteen. Will have your medical degree at twenty-two, when most people your age will barely have their lives together. Just because psych isn't considered as hardcore as surgery thanks to _Grey's_ fucking _Anatomy_ , that doesn't mean it isn't just as extraordinary. You're incredible, and what you want to do in the medical field is incredible. Don't you ever let _anyone_ —even your own mother—make you feel like that's not good enough."

There's a pause. "You watch _Grey's Anatomy_?"

"MAKA!"

She giggles. "Sorry, sorry! I'm not making fun, I swear. It's a great show—until they killed off Lexie Grey, at least." She presses her lips together in her signature non-smile, and Soul nearly heaves with relief because seeing his sunshine girl resemble a moonless night rather than a cloudless day was enough to nearly give him a conniption. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get all serious. Today was supposed to be a fun day."

"Today _was_ a fun day," he insists. "It _is_. But just because it's a fun day doesn't mean that we can't talk like this, too." Abandoning his cob on the bench next to him, he grips her tiny hand in his and ignores the sticky feeling as he says seriously, "You can always talk to me, Maka. Always. You put up with my issues enough on a daily basis; it's the least I could do."

"You're never a burden, Soul."

"Same goes for you."

Nibbling on her bottom lip, Maka peers up at him from beneath long, dark blond lashes, and even though she isn't wearing any makeup—even though she has sand clinging to her ankles and her hair is tangled with dried saltwater and he watched her beat a guy three times her size in a wrestling match hours before—she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Shyly, she tightens her grip on his sticky hand and leans into him, resting her forehead against his neck as he curls his body around her. His heart is beating a million miles a minute; his face is hotter than the hidden sun. For a moment, they stay like that, fingers intertwined and hearts racing as the world continues around them, and when she finally speaks, he almost doesn't hear her over the busy crowd:

"You're way too good for me."

He balks like a fish on water for a split second before he's gripping her shoulders to push her back so he can look her in the eyes as he blubbers, "You're _kidding_ , right?"

"I—"

"Maka!" interrupts a thunderous voice. "Soul! There you are! Never fear, YOUR GOD HAS ARRIVED!"

Soul has to close his eyes and count to three to keep from punching his best friend in the face.

Blake throws his arms around Soul's shoulders and rubs his head spastically with his knuckles, earning several growls and shouts as Soul struggles to get out of the blue-haired idiot's grasp. Blake continues to laugh like a maniac and spout nonsense about how he's been looking for them and that they were fools to think they could escape their god and how Soul owes him two hundred pushups for some ridiculous bet he's never agreed to, all the while never releasing Soul of his chokehold.

Why does this remind him of another crazy person who has no sense of personal space boundaries…

When Soul finally manages to wrestle away from Blake—thanks to the help of the tiny yet powerful Maka—Tsubaki shoots them both an apologetic look. "Sorry. We tried to reign him in, but he was determined to find you."

"I'm just mad Blake burst in when he did," Liz sighs. "Five more seconds and I probably would've won the bet. Did you see how close Maka and Soul were before Blake jumped in?"

Soul wisely decides not to ask. "Have you guys been looking for us this whole time?"

"Nah, only when Blake realized Maka wasn't there to compete against him on one of those test of strength carnival machines," Kilik says with a grin. After Blair's flippant comment about the dark-haired boy's feelings for Maka, Soul can't help but inwardly flinch, but Kilik looks calm and relaxed as ever. Not at all like a guy reuniting with the girl he loves and the guy she ran off to spend time alone with.

"A GOD NEEDS COMPETITION TO MAKE HIM LOOK GOOD," booms Blake. "Even tiny humans like Maks."

"Don't call me Maks!"

"Pigtails then!"

"I haven't worn pigtails since I was five!"

"What about polka—"

" _Don't you dare!_ "

As Maka and Blake continue to bicker so impressively that they draw a crowd almost as curious as one of the actual street acts, Kid appears next to Soul like a fucking shadow, nearly making him jump five feet in the air. "Shit, Kid! Warn a guy next time, won't ya?"

"Sorry," Kid deadpans in the manner of someone who isn't sorry at all. "Is she okay?"

"What?"

"Maka," the dark-haired introvert says as if it's obvious. "The others might not have noticed, but she looked upset before we interrupted. Did something happen?"

Soul gives him a funny look. "What's it to you?"

Kid stares at him like he's the biggest idiot on the planet. "You may be part of Spartoi now, but I don't know you well enough to consider you to be more than my neighbor just yet. Maka, however, is my friend. A good one. So if you hurt her or offended her in any way, I am obligated to—"

"Beat me up, yeah, yeah, I know, I get it," Soul mutters. "Don't worry; Kilik already gave me the whole _hurt-her-we-hurt-you_ spiel. You don't have to repeat it."

"I was going to say that I have connections. _Powerful_ connections. I could make you disappear from your bed at night and no one would ever know what happened."

The dead serious expression in his golden eyes actually makes Soul shiver, like a caress of death or some shit. "Uhhhhhhh okay. That's, uh, cool then."

"I'm just saying."

"I heard you."

"Good. Now tell me what you did."

Soul exhales deeply, his eyes straying back to where Blake is trying to lock Maka in a chokehold like he did to Soul earlier and the rest of Spartoi cheers from the sidelines while placing very obvious verbal bets. "We talked about her mom."

"Ah," Kid says grimly. "The wonderful Kami Albarn."

"Was that— _sarcasm_?"

"Do you have a problem?"

"No, I just—" _Didn't think you had a sense of humor_. "Never mind." Soul coughs. "You know about her mom?"

"I may not have grown up with her like Kilik and Blake, but our fathers are close so we crossed paths a lot before we became friends. Her mother, unfortunately, has never been in the picture, even though she'll use the excuse of the divorce to justify her neglectful behavior. Cowardly, if you ask me."

"I just can't believe she hasn't visited her daughter in three fucking years." Just thinking about it makes Soul's blood boil. And remembering the despondent look on Maka's face as she explained her empty bleachers and bleak holidays? Yeah, that definitely isn't good for his blood pressure.

Kid nods darkly. "Plus, after what happened to Maka in high school, abandoning her was the worst possible thing she could've done. I don't know how the woman lives with herself."

"Wait—what happened to Maka in high school?"

Gold eyes snap to the side and widen. "Didn't you say you discussed it already?"

"We discussed her mother leaving and disapproving of her major. We didn't say anything about high school." The look on the dark-haired boy's face raises Soul's alarm. "What? What the hell happened? What aren't you telling me?" Briefly, his memory flashes back to that morning when Wes explained with a controlled expression how Maka had a rough time of it when they went to Shibusen and that Soul should treat her like a princess if he was serious about her. "Was she bullied or something?"

A dark laugh escapes Kid's lips. "Or something." The words are like a sneer on his lips. "It's not my place to tell you what she went through if she hasn't already. All I can say is that it would've been a lot easier if she _had_ been bullied."

Then, before Soul can demand any more information, the football players finally break up Blake and Maka's fight with Harvar physically lifting her up by the waist and moving her aside like she's no more than a feisty kitten.

Maka sticks her tongue out at the blue-haired idiot before shaking free of Harvar's hold. She stalks over to Soul with a pout, complaining about how she doesn't want to ride in the same car with Blake on the way back so they're riding in Kilik's soccer mom van instead.

That leads to a whole new discussion in which Kilik insists that the van is actually his mother's and it's for his younger siblings, though Ox and Harvar are quick to put in that Kilik's mom actually _is_ a soccer mom and a damn hot one at that.

And _that_ leads to a whole other conversation about moms that Soul wisely decides to stay out of.

When they finally leave the boardwalk and pile into the cars on the way back to Blake's house, the moon has risen high in the sky and everyone is so exhausted that they pass out within minutes.

Days at the beach are impossibly draining, almost like a payment to the gods for the good weather and luck, and the drive home is a quiet reflection of that. Maka squeezes between Soul and Patty in the backseat of Kilik's mom's soccer van, her head resting on his shoulder as she snoozes adorably.

By the time they all reconvene at Blake's, all of Spartoi is unbelievably docile with mumbled goodbyes and half-hearted yawns as they part ways. Soul had been just as exhausted when they left his best friend's house, but now—sitting in the passenger seat of Maka's car as she idles in his driveway—he couldn't be more wide-awake.

"Maka—"

She tilts her head at him curiously when he breaks off but doesn't continue. "What is it?"

He has so many questions. So many. _What happened to you in high school? Why does my brother stare at you the way he does? What's wrong with your mother? Why are the others so overprotective of you? Why won't anyone tell me anything?_

 _Do you know that Kilik loves you?_

 _Do you know what you feel for_ me _?_

But no matter how much he wants to word-vomit all of his insecurities into existence, he can't force the words, not when she's looking at him like that with those big green eyes and that sweet angelic face. Not when she looked so fucking sad at the barest mention of her mother and seems to dim every time someone so much as mentions her high school years.

He wants to know her, more than he's wanted anything. But more than that, he wants her to come to him. Feel comfortable with him. If the only reason he learns things about her is because he asks others or forces the answers from her before she's ready, what is that worth? What does it mean?

It's not enough. Not to him.

Soul wants _everything_.

"Thank you," he says finally, and his voice is barely a whisper, like the gods are sleeping crickets around them and making a single sound will break some sort of delicate spell that protects them all.

Maka's smile is pure sunshine in the night as she murmurs back, "You're welcome."

* * *

 **a/n:** _you guys have been so wonderful to my newbie behind it makes me want to cry. i don't know what i did to deserve readers like you, but thank you. so many hearts._

 _xo  
_ _chloe_


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